Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Text from Pages 1 - 84 of the 1924 volume:

THE TARGET Millard Junior High School JUNE, 1924 BERKELEY, CALIF. JUNK CLASS OF 192-1 The Iron Box EAN KIP was sitting on the couch in the dining room reading a book when her father entered. “Jean, your aunt has just sent me word that your uncle is ill and for me to come immediately. I hate to leave you here alone on the plantation but it can’t be helped,” he said hurriedly. “Oh, daddy! Is he very ill?” was the reply. “I don’t know, Jean. I hope not. There is another thing I want to talk to you about. I will have to leave the invention that I have been working on here with you but I can’t think of any place to hide it.” “Daddy! Are you going to leave it with me to take care of?” she exclaimed joyfully. “Where will we put it?” Jean sat a moment looking steadily at the toe of her shoe, and at last looked up gleefully. “Oh, I know where! You come with me.” She pulled him by the hand into the hall and over to an old chest which stood in the doorway. She raised the lid and Mr. Kip peered in. The box was full of old broken toys which had been carelessly thrown in. There were all of the toys which Jean’s many relatives had given to a motherless girl when she was younger. Mr. Kip turned to Jean, saying with a smile, “Jean, old pal, good for you. No one would think of looking in that junk heap for the inven- tion. You wait here and I’ll get it.” He returned shortly with a small iron box which he locked and gave the key to Jean. Then together they buried the box deep in the remains of countless toys. Just as they were closing the chest the knocker on the door sounded loudly and Lilly White hurried from the next room and opened the door. On the doorstep stood Jean’s dearest friend, Bertha. “Oh, Jean,” she called, “I have some marvelous news. Bob has just come home and he brought a friend with him. Mother wants you to come over for dinner and spend the evening with us. Wash will bring you home in the carriage. “Oh what fun!” said Jean. “I’d really like to Bertha, but you see father is going away to-night and I can’t.” “Of course you are going, Jean,” answered her father. “It’s a fine plan. Hurry now and get dressed so you won’t keep them waiting. I’ll entertain Miss Bertha while you are gone.” Several hours later Jean was coming home all alone in the big fam- ily carriage. She had had a very enjoyable evening and had found Bob and his friend, Tom, entertaining, but she was very tired and glad to get home. When the carriage stopped at her door she alighted quickly and stole softly up to the door. “I won’t bother to awaken Moses,” she thought. “I’ll just slip in and go right up to bed, for it’s late, I’m sure. In the morning I’ll tease Moses for not taking care of me as he should.” She turned the doorknob softly and walked in. On a chair near the door sat Moses fast asleep, his head sunk on his chest and at his elbow on the table a small lamp burned. Jean giggled and turned to go upstairs when she stopped, horrified. The lid of the chest was open and there were toys thrown carelessly all over the hall! Jean ran over to the chest and searched frantically for the iron box. It was gone! Jean sat on the edge of the chest weakly. “Daddy trusted it with me and it’s gone,” she thought desperately. “It’s gone and all his work amounts to nothing, and he trusted it with me.” The knocker sounded heavily on the door. Jean flew across the hall and before the surprised Moses could collect his scattered senses she had thrown open the door. An old negro stood at the door apologetically. “If you please. Missus — ” he began hesitatingly. “Ole Missus she done sent me over to explain. Young Mars’ John he done run away over here an’ seems like dat fool Lilly White what youall’s got ’lowed mah lil’ Mars’ to get into all sorts of troubles. The po’ 111’ fellow didn’t know as how it was wrong to tote away other folks’ things. Here you are, Missus, and thank you most kindly.” Thrusting a package into Jean’s hands, he departed muttering fearful imprecations on Lilly White. It was the non box. — MARION GEDDES. THE OUTDOORS A life in the great outdoors, What a wonderful thing it would be; To live where the great pine roars And the winds are boundless and free; A life where great cataracts leap. Where the stars shine bright mid the blue. Where nature sings you to sleep And wonders are ever anew; A life where the purple hills meet the sea. Where the billowy waves dash high, Where the great cedar nods in the passing breeze And the red of the sunset paints the sky. EILEEN MITCHELL. Bravery Counts OU won’t be afraid to stay here alone while we got to Grandma Snow’s? She is very ill. Little Billy will stay with you.” “No, mother, of course I won’t. Remember I am a Wellington.” “Yes, Beth dear, always remember that your ancestors were noted for their bravery.” Father and mother climbed into the rickety old wagon. As they rode away through a pine-tree forest they could hear little Billy calling to his big sister, whom he adored. “Just a minute. Let me lock the back door, then I’ll come,” called back Beth. And Billy answered, “Oh, goody! Then we can play hide-and-seek in the big trees.” There was a clearing around the little log cabin and Beth could easily see it while they played in the edge of the woods. They had paused to rest a little while, when she noticed two or three Indians going toward the cabin. They did not belong to the friendly tribe living near, and by their hostile glances she knew they came for no good. What was she to do? Could she save their little home? Where could she hide Billy? These questions ran through her mind as she saw four more In- dians going toward the cabin. She could not run away, because they might see her and then ! “Billy, come here! Now listen carefully. We are going to play a new kind of a game. You are to hide in that log over there and stay till I call you. Now hurry, or you’ll spoil the fun,” explained Beth. “Aw wight, I will. I is tired anyhow.” As soon as she had gotten Billy into the log, off she sped toward the cabin. What should she do? She knew not. If only she could save the little home that she had known for ten years. Somewhere in her memory there flashed a picture. She was running from a big dog. An old man caught her in his arms, and turning her face upward, said, “Beth, little Beth, don t be afraid. Always be brave. Remember you are a Wellington. The Wellingtons are rot cowards.” She saw a picture of a beautiful home and large gardens; her mother, not dressed as she was now, but in soft silky clothes. She would be brave all the more because her father’s bravery had been doubted and he had been disinherited. “Remember you are a Wellington,” rang through her ears as she sped onward. She stopped with an exclamation. Her home was on fire ! She turned to flee, but two Indians had seen her. She went boldly toward her burning home, and going up to one of them asked, “Won’t you help me put out the fire? Here is a bucket.” But one of the Indians grabbed her, and raising his tomahawk high over her head, was about to kill her when his chief interfered. “Let her alone. I will take her to my wigwam. She is very brave. Don’t kill when they are brave, but kill when they are afraid.” A smoldering mass of ruins greeted the family when they returned six hours later. Little Billy was standing with his thumb in his mouth, and tears rolling down his cheeks. “Mama, I want Beth. She said it was a new kind of game and she didn’t come back.” His mother and father knew only too well what had happened. Their Beth had either been killed or carried off by the Indians. Beth was treated very respectfully, and they gave her whatever she wished, because the chief had taken a fancy to her. She thought only of her parents and the home that was burned. Two moons had passed, as the Indians say, when one morning Beth could stand it no longer, She must end this uncertainty and try to get- home, no matter what the consequences. As she went out of the tepee she came face to face with an old Eng- lishman whose face looked familiar. She forgot about running away; forgot about everything but the old man. He was very ill. She took him into the warm wigwam, and for weeks he lay there, Beth and her Indi an friends watching over him. Finally he opened his eyes. He looked at her a long time, and then : “Are you Beth Wellington? Yes, I thought so. When I go, read the paper in my coat. Your grandfather found out the truth — your father is not a coward, but a hero. He tried to find his son. Before he died he commissioned me to find him. I tried, but Indians separated me from the soldiers. I escaped. But I was so sick. If I could only give him the paper I could die in peace.” He closed his eyes. There were tears in Beth’s eyes. She gently took her arm from under his head, and with slow footsteps and bowed head, she went for comfort to her favorite place among the trees. She did not see anyone approach until she heard a voice cry, “Beth!” She jumped to her feet and saw — her father. “Father,” she sobbed, and was in his arms. Then she remembered the old man. “Father, he is dying and he wants to see you.” It was after they had wrapped him in a bural blanket and had laid him beneath the sighing pines that her father took out the letter. After reading it to himself, with a far-away look in his eyes, he said, “It’s just like my father, always square and brave and ready to do the right thing.” MARGARET RADER. The Uninteresting Age thirteen. You know AMES is at such an uninteresting age they’re men. It’s too bad, isn’t it?” ‘‘My brother is just the same age as James. He’s uninteresting and always in the way,” his sister’s companion answered. James sat on the back step and a deep red flush tinted his face. The answer of his sister’s companion had killed a budding romance that had lately entered his heart. He rose and walked down the path to the street. The words of his sister’s companion came as a climax to an already unhappy week, and mother, his real friend, was sick. He kicked a pebble viciously. Today was Saturday, play day and cake day, when mother was well. That morning he had entered the kitchen and asked Mary when the cake would be done. She had mut- tered something about kids always being ready to eat. Then he had met brother Fred for whom he had a great feeling of admiration. “Hello, sonny,” Fred’s greeting had been. He tried to laugh it off but a small lump in his throat stopped him. Next, he met his father and asked for his weekly wage. His father gave him the money and then said, “Hurry and grow up so you can earn your own money.” He had gone out on the back step when the utterance of his hister’s companion had reached his ear. “Uninteresting.” “I wonder when a fellow becomes uninteresting?” he mused. He started to walk down the street. His allowance jingled in his pocket and with the jingle came a thought. He wouldn’t touch a penny of it. He would earn his own money and buy his mother some roses. Per- haps his uninteresting age wouldn’t affect the grocer when he saw such big hands and willing feet. James reached the grocery store, and went to the proprietor, who knew him. “Do you want a boy to deliver goods?” he asked. “You’re just in time, James. We are short of help. Get on that wagon going out. I’ll pay you 50 cents a day.” James got on and the wagon started out at a terrible pace. After hours of climbing stairs, the day ended, leaving him with tired feet, skinned knuckles, and every bone in his body aching. He stopped at the florist’s on his way home and bought some red roses for his mother. It was late but he knew they wouldn’t miss him. They would be relieved because he wasn’t there. At last he reached home and walked in. One of his long legs came in contact with the leg of a chair. He recovered himself quickly, and, stepping over to his father’s place, gave him the money he had received from him that morning. He said in a low voice, “I worked today, father, and I am able to return my allowance to you. It is all right, isn’t it?” James turned and ran upstairs. Arriving at his mother’s room he pushed the door open. She started at the forlorn figure standing there holding an armful of roses. She held out her arms. In a minute he was in them sobbing and kissing her, forgetting his dirty hands and uninteresting age. After a long si lence he looked up and said, “It doesn’t matter what people say as long as I have you, mother.” PIERCE HUSSEY. SPRING’S ADVENT The fruit trees all in blossom. The flowers in their bloom. Both say that spring is coming Though without blast or boom. Yet what a change already! The young leaves now appear, And green grass crowns the hilltops — Tis a beautiful time of year. In the blue sky there’s sunshine, Where rain clouds used to be. Even dull, dreary winter thoughts Are changed by spring, you see. “And now,” chirp all the little birds. Who have just come up our way, “We all will be very busy Building our nests each day.” ANONA PICKARD. The Lost Child “This is the tenth time I have gone riding and I can ride pretty well now.” “You can never be too careful, my little daughter,” advised her kind father. “Often the best riders get hurt because they are careless. You had better go now, Elizabeth. John will be waiting for you.” Elizabeth was the young six-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Parker, a wealthy couple living in the suburbs of a large city.” “John, the man who cared for the horses and gave Elizabeth her riding lessons, had been waiting and looking for Elizabeth, After a short search he had decided that Elizabeth had started out ahead towards the park, as she had done once before. Therefore he started toward the park on his horse at a quick trot to catch up with her. Soon after John had left, Elizabeth came from the house. When she did not see John or his horse, as she came out, an idea entered her little head. It would be fun, she thought, to ride alone. With a little difficulty she climbed onto her small horse. Soon she was riding away. But not towards the big, beautiful park. She went on the road leading through the open country to the woods beyond. Now John was anxiously searching the whole park. He rode up every road and path hoping that he might find Elizabeth. Where she was he could not imagine. She was not in the park. He went home thinking possibly she was there. But she was not. Her parents did not know where she was. They notified the police of their lost daughter. Soon it was known everywhere that Elizabeth Parker was lost. Her father felt that she must have ridden off alone and fallen from her horse. Mr. Parker was exceedingly angry with John because he did not take good care of dear little Elizabeth. Night drew on and the little girl was not found. Her parents’ worry knew no bound and there was no sleep for them that night. On during the night they searched the city and suburbs. In the morning Mr. Parker returned home with no trace of his daughter. In a short time he and John again set out. Mr. Parker went towards the city. John took the road leading through the country. Along the road John went, inquiring at every house. Bijh no one had seen the little girl. On he went through the country into tn e sg reat woods, calling now and then. I | OOD-BY, daddy, T m going for my horseback ride with John, now.” “Good-bv. dear. Be careful and don’t 20 too fast.” No answer came. All morning he rode through those silent woods, look- ing under and around bushes and trees. Finally he came to a cave. He called. No answer. He looked in. He saw nothing but darkness. He went in and called. He heard some- thing move. Then he saw little Elizabeth cruled upon the floor of the cave asleep. It was not she who had moved. He looked about. There in the back of the cave he saw two eyes gleaming. There was no time to be lost. They were in the cave of some wild animal. He caught up Elizabeth. He hurried out of the fearful cave. He put her on his horse. As he did so he happened to see the footprints of a large bear. He waited no longer, but climbed onto his horse and rode away speedily toward home. There the thrilling news was soon spread that Elizabeth Parker had been found sleeping in the lonely cave of a large bear. Elizabeth never wanted to go riding alone again until she was much older. DORATHEA ASMAN. A Story of Pioneer Days lomestead and asking for different things. This particular Indian was a middle-aged man and was making signs with his fingers, carrying them occasionally to his mouth, which showed that he was hungry and wished something to eat. Mr. Reddick had a setting hen which he could not break, so he told the Indian if he cared to catch the hen he could have her. The Indian started after the hen. The chicken led him a wild chase around the barnyard, around bushes and barns, through grass, and over bare soil. Finally she ran up a haystack with the Indian in hot pursuit. Of course the hen flew down the other side. The Indian, being a wicked fellow, had no wings so he was forced to jump down the other side. He had his eyes on his meal and did not see the watering trough at the bottom of this haystack. He jumped and — splash! He found himself rather wet. He stood up and, shaking himself, grunted, “Ugh!” He resumed his chase, and after catching his prey, he went to a sunny spot nearby and, drying himself, calmly enjoyed a chicken dinner. HAT do you wish?” asked Mr. Reddick of an Indian who had come to his farm and was looking around as if he wanted some- thing. Mr. Reddick was accustomed to Indians coming to his BERYL KECHELY. T WAS Monday, the first day of school. It was also the first day of the circus. Of course the circus was a pleasanter subject to talk about than the school, so on many childish tongues the thrilling word “circus” burned hotly. Now the lot on which the circus was situated lay between the school and the homes of three chums. Bob, Dick and Harry. As it happened, these boys were the chief source of mischief in the fifth grade and they were ready for any unusual sort of plan that would furnish good results. On this particular morning they were passing by the circus when Bob noticed a cage in which was a lion, being drawn into the largest tent. “Say, that looks good!” grunted Bob. “Sure does,” agreed Dick. Harry was deep in thought. Such a wide-awake brain for nonsense and plans as Harry had! He was the smartest of the three. “Say, how’d you like to play hookey? Let’s go and see the circus?” he questioned slyly. “Fine idea if it will work,” assented Dick. “Sure it will, if you’ll do just what I say, ’ said Harry gaily. “Of course, your honor,” laughed Bob sarcastically. “Come on then,” grunted Harry, much pleased with himself. They entered the circus easily, for it had been banking day and each of the boys had a dollar to bank. “Let’s separate and meet here later,” cautiously suggested Bob. “Agreed,” assented Harry and Dick in one breath. Bob wandered among the cages, examining everything he could see. Finally he stopped in front of the before-mentioned lion’s cage. The trainer was polishing the bars. “What’s the lion’s name?” asked Bob. “Fury,” muttered the trainer. “Do you ever go into Fury’s cage, sir?” questioned inquisitive Bob. “Sure, lots of times. Going m now,” said the trainer calmly and briefly. “Do you ever — er — ever let anyone into Fury’s cage?” asked Bob eagerly. “Naw! Why? Do you want to go in?” he said smiling to him- self, wondering at the boy’s eagerness. “Sure do,” said Bob. “C’mon then, but be careful.” Bob followed as though in a dream. Once inside the lion’s cage his legs shook. He glanced around him uneasily. The lion was in another section of the cage, that was true, but even then it was too near. “Now, should that door through which we entered close, the other one which keeps the beast from us would open, and that lion would make a substantial meal out of us.” This cheerful remark came from the trainer. “Marvelous,” grinned Bob, trying to look brave. They had no sooner turned their backs on the door than, with a snap, it closed and from the other door emerged the lion. The startled trainer, white of face, handed Bob the gun. Bob stared at it as though paralyzed. The lion encircled them, making darts now and then at the trainer. A whip was all the trainer had but he prepared to hold out as long as possible. If only help would come! Then the fatal spring came. The animal’s whole strength was in it. He caught the trainer squarely by the hip. Bob suddenly realized that the trainer’s life depended on his help. The gun! The very thing. He aimed for the lion’s head and bang! Down fell the king of the beasts. Was it luck or a plain miracle? No one can tell. However, the trainer is now convalescing. He will never walk again but it is to Bob he owes his life. BETTY HOUGHTON. A CHILD’S THOUGHT I wish I were a cool, green tree. That birds might nestle on my knee. That I might welcome to my breast The tired folks who want to rest, Who, wearied of the city’s noise. Find cooling shelter neath my boughs. The birds that tired the day has made Seek rest in the shadow’d woodland glade Where nothing can disturb their slumber Except a flash and then some thunder. NINA BANCROFT. Ye Bygone Days ' H • I €111 T WAS a cold day in February. We three children were sitting on a comfortable davenport in front of a cheery fire. Across from us sat our grandmother, knitting. All was still except for the steady click of the needles, for we had been playing all day and were resting “between the dark and the daylight.” Suddenly grandma broke the silence with: “Who wants to have grandma tell a story?” “I! I! I!” came the eager answer. “I think you really want me to, then,” said grandma, “so I will tell you of an exciting happening of my younger days.” We were always glad when she said that, for grandma had lived in Loyalist days in the wilds of Nova Scotia, and had many stories to tell of her life there. Amid a breathless silence she began: “I was only about eight years old when this happened, but I have a vivid recollection of it. Very few settlers lived in the part we did. My father and mother had built their log cabin themselves, and had not been there very long. In the family were my baby brother, aged ten months, and myself. Father used to go into the forest every day and cut down trees to be used for firewood and for building a barn. All the women at that time stayed home with a gun to protect their houses and children from marauding animals. “On this particular day mother was working in the house. Hearing the pigs squeal, she ran to the door to see what the matter was. The sight she saw was an unusual one even for those times. A hungry brown bear was approaching the pig pen. What could she do? Father had taken the gun with him that morning and she was all alone except for me, a child of eight. Grabbing the broom, she rushed out, calling to me. She had to save her winter meat. “I had been helping her, but on hearing my brother cry, had run to see if I could put him to sleep again. I suddenly heard mother call, ‘M ary, Mary, come quickly.’ I ran out to the door. My mother was standing between the pig pen and the bear. She was flourishing the broom and called, ‘Mary, run and tell your father to come as quickly as he can, for I’m afraid the bear will get to the pigs or baby.’ “My fear lent wings to my feet and I dashed through the woods, guided by the sound of my father’s axe. It seemed as if I would never reach him, but at last I came upon him. ‘Father, father,’ I panted, ‘there’s a bear — by our house — and m-mother’s — afraid it ' ll get in the house. She’s at it — with a broom — and wants you to g-go help her kill it.’ “He went before I had finished this speech, and I followed as closely as I could. I was just in time to see my father take aim at the bear. It rolled over stone dead. “Mother, although she knew baby was safe, ran into the house to pick him up in her arms and hug him, thanking God for his deliverance and mine.” As grandma finished, she looked over at us. We had been inter- ested in the story, but were ready to retire. Just then the clock struck “Bedtime! Bedtime! Bedtime!” and we obeyed it. We called back out thanks to grandma for helping us pass the evening pleasantly. Then we went to bed to dream of bears, pigs and numerous other things. MARGARET LAMB. A Letter New Hope, Louisiana Territory, August 14, 1810. Dear Mother: We had many trying times coming across the country. Notwith- standing the hardships, we wish you were here with us; but with the dangers and hardships of the journey we do not want you to start. The country is all woodlands and we are cutting the tall trees down and building our log houses before winter sets in. It was not an easy matter to cross the Appalachian Mountains and the Mississippi River. We had to bind willows on the sides of the wagons to make them float and we lost some of our cattle. We were attacked by a straggling band of Indians and lost a few of our men but outside of that we had little trouble with them. The Red River overflows its banks and the land is damp and rich but our cabins are on a hill and the water doesn’t get to them. We planted a garden and we are going to clear our place better and plant corn. The leaves of the trees have fallen year after year and are rotting where they lay. This is responsible for the rich land, not scratched before with a plow. The three families already here have helped us in many ways. They came when the country was first thrown open to settlers and are most willing to show us how to avoid some serious mistakes which they made. Write soon. Your son. PAUL WITTICH. A Rescue in a Mining Shaft (As Told Round a Campfire) LTHOUGH Bob Huntington had been a scout for only two years, he had more merit badges than any other boy in the troop. He understood first aid, woodcraft and bird study so well that none of the other boys could equal him. He could signal like a marine. In athletics he did not excel because he was too light for football and baseball did not appeal to him. Dick Thomas, the biggest boy in the troop, seemed to live for just these sports. He lost no chance to tease Bob whenever the two met. Once he went so far as to call him “yellow” and a fight had followed. This was the state of affairs when they came to the scout camp in the summer. Bob stood with patience the bullying remarks of Dick. Finally he came to the conclusion that Dick really could not swim. He had noticed that Dick always went in with the others, but he could never remember seeing him swim. The thought occurred to him that if he could duck him in front of the others, it would be a good chance to get even. One day after mess when the scouts were free to amuse themselves as they wanted to, Bob started up a nearby mountain trail to explore the shaft of an old mine. This had an opening like a cave and on going in he discovered a dark pool. Bob was very much interested in minerals and stopped to examine some specimens, when he heard a shrill cry. It came from above and immediately afterward he heard other voices calling excitedly. Springing to his feet, he climbed the slope quickly. On reaching the top he learned that Dick had fallen down the shaft. In an instant he recalled the dark pool. Just them he heard Dick calling in terror. Leaping up, he tore off his shoes and let himself down the shaft. For a moment he hung on the edge looking into the dark space below. The mean things Dick had said flashed in his mind. Gritting his teeth, he loosened his hold and a little later landed in the pool with a splash. “Dick,” he called, “where are you?” “Here,” came back a faint voice, “but I’m slipping.” Bob swam in that direction, grabbed Dick, who by now was un- conscious, and made for the entrance. It was a hard pull. The outlet to the cave seemed miles away, the cold dark pool was full of terrors, and his body ached. More than once he thought the end had come. Finally he heard voices. He felt the strong grasp of the scout- master’s arm. Then everything grew black. The next thing he knew he found himself lying in his tent. That evening when the rest were gathered around the campfire, Dick came to his tent. At first neither spoke. Then Dick said, “I’ve been an awful cad. The trouble was you had so many badges and you beat everyone at swimming. I’ve always wanted to swim but never could, and well, I guess I was jealous.” Bob was still dazed from his adventure but Dick looked so miser- able that before he knew it he had promised to teach him to swim. The next few days after mess they slipped away by themselves to a little cove not far away where under skillful training Dick soon learned to swim. But best of all Bob kept his word. None of the other boys ever knew. WILBUR NEWELL. MY BEAR The bear upon my dresser sits. And eats until his eyes are slits. All of the pence that lie around. He gobbles up with a furious bound. With a grave shake of his wise head He seems to say: ‘‘See that I’m fed; Some day you will be very glad For the rich food that I have had.” Into his tummy every day A shiny penny wends its way, To help against that future time When I shall need this treasure fine. Off to the bank the bear must go. For that’s where he hides his loot, you know; And when you ask him where he’s been, He only answers with a grin. For he knows just as well as you That if we save each penny too, We’ll be like King Midas was of old. Happy in the knowledge of a well-filled hold. BETH SWINN. A Leap Year Proposal RUCE, you just simply have to explain to me what it all means.” Mary Jane, a small girl of seven, made this earnest remark to her faithful puppy, who was her constant companion. But Bruce only wagged his funny little wisp of a tail, and barked joyously in dog language. ‘‘Oh, Bruce, why can’t you talk? I just know you want to, and then — besides, you wouldn’t laugh at me for asking foolish questions, now, would you?” But by now the little dog had espied a ladybug in the grass and was examining it curiously. t Mary Jane realized that she would have to get along as best she could. Why did everybody laugh at her, though, when she asked them if she couldn’t make a leap year proposal? Her mother would always say, ‘‘Oh, Jane, whatever put such foolish notions into your head? Now, run along and play and don’t bother mother again when she has com- pany.” Then she would pat Mary Jane’s head and glance understand- ingly at her friends, who were sure to remark, “What a cute little girl!” and, “My, how much you have grown, my deah!” until she would run wildly from the room. However, Mary Jane continued to ask questions. Her brother (who was nearly 22) would go into paroxyms of laughter when she tried to talk to him about it. “Mary Jane,” he would say, “what does a small child of your age know about proposals?” Would not that be enough to make anyone angry? Maybe someone had proposed to him and that was what made him so silly. In fact, she had heard it hinted that brother had had a proposal. But her big sister, Betty (who was 1 5, and quite grown-up) , was more considerate of her feelings and seemed to be more interested. She had told Mary Jane all about proposing on leap year. “You ask the person you love the very best,” she had said, dramatically, “to give you your heart’s desire.” Ah, well, it was all very strange. But she had at last found out what a leap year proposal was! With these thoughts she mounted the stairs to her nursery, and was soon tucked away in bed, but strongly resisting the powers of Somnus. Yes! The decision was made! It should be done tomorrow. Oh, how very, very sleepy she was! How happy and impatient she was! Would morning ever come? Two days later Dr. John Evans sat in his private office giving per- sonal attention to the many letters he found upon his desk. One large business-like envelope addressed in a small cramped hand surprised him. He opened it hurriedly and read as follows: “My Leap Year Proposal — “Dear Daddie: I have decided to propose to you ’cause with all my heart I love you. Brother says I’m too young. But I ' m not. I know just what I want. “First, a silver collar for Bruce. Then I want an Aunt Jemima dolly, and a new carriage for my real lady doll, Floradora. Then I want one more white kitty with two or three black spots on him. “I do hope you will accept my proposal, as I could not wait another four years for these things. From your little girl — Mary Jane.” JESSICA CAULKINS. The Mountain Pool N THE Butano Canyon is a small rippling stream at the head of which are many waterfalls where the green water splashes over tiny cliffs and finally falls splashing and dashing into a deep circling pool. The little trout swim faster to avoid the rapidly falling water. The beautiful five-fingered ferns and maiden hair grow thickly on the tall rocky cliff above the pool. From the steep worn path one looks upon the rapidly moving pool through the trees and bushes. Across one end of the pool lies the long trunk of a tree upon which sits an old fisherman. The sun is just going down and the pink clouds are reflected in the cool green water. It is the hour for all fish to come out of their dark rocky caves to find a worm or fly for their dinner. As the old fisherman sits upon the mossy log he feels a jerking upon his line. He pulls it in and finds a large rainbow trout which is jerking and wriggling to try and get back into the cool deep home. The fisher- man takes his fish and puts it into his brown basket and as the shadows grow longer across the pool and the pink fades from the sky he picks up his laden basket and winds his way along the edge of the creek until he reaches his small hut. BEATRICE LATHROP. The Revenge of Hezekiah some neat little plan of revenge. For Hezekiah was judge, prominent citizen, owner of “Barlow’s Main Emporium”, owner of a little fishing smack, and fisherman. When enumerating his chief points, he usually left out the last item, but it will have to be added here because of its reference to our story. One eventful day, a city man — very visibly a city man — walked up to the Honorable Hezekiah and, after discussing the weather, asked if he might be allowed to go out in the judge’s boat. “Wall now, it ain’t ev’rybody I’d take out in my boat, but seem’ as yer willin’ to pay a good price. I’ll do it. When do ye want ter go?” asked Hezekiah with an eye for easy money. “Well, say tomorrow afternoon about 2:30,” replied the citified one. “I’m interested in seeing the cape. My name is Reginald Hanover if you want to locate me for anything. How much do you want to take me around the cape? A dollar?” “A dollar,” sputtered Hezekiah, too wrathful to speak distinctly. “I won’t take nobody nowhere for less’n ten anyways, and seem’ as you want ter go a good distance, you’ll have ter pay fifteen.” “Oh,” murmured M r Hanover. “All right,” he concluded. Thus they parted to meet again the following day. Now the judge disliked tightwads greatly. He also prided himself upon his personal appearance, and whenever he looked into a mirror he saw an excellent example of one. The next day early, Hezekiah arose and went down town. Drop- ping in at “Barlow’s Main Emporium,” he noticed the back of the dapper young man he was to pilot around the cape. He was talking with an equally well-dressed older one. “Well,” said Reginald Hanover, “good luck to you. I’m going to spend the afternoon going around the cape with an old codger who will give me wonderful material for my next story. To have him described will make people roar.” “Huh!” muttered Hezekiah, who had been accidentally — on pur- pose — listening to this conversation and had grown more and more angry as the conclusion of it approached. “I’ll show ’em.” EZEKIAH BARLOW was a man of extreme likes and dis- likes. When he felt that anyone had not been as polite and considerate as he should have been, he immediately thought up Two-thirty arrived and with it Reginald Hanover. “Git right in,” said Hezekiah, outwardly genial. It was a perfect day. Hez ekiah began to steer toward some piles in the bay. Suddenly — “Swish! Plop!” — and Reginald struggled to the surface of the glassy water. He knew he could expect no assistance from the judge, so he wriggled as well as possible to a nearby pile. Hezekiah stood in his boat grinning a little. “I think,” said he, “thet I’ll git somebody to write as good a story about you as you were going to about me. You’re perfectly safe up thar, and afore long there will be some boats along thet’ll pick yer up. Meanwhile you kin sit up thar and think over your sins.” Thus was Hezekiah avenged. HELEN EVELETH. Snowball His whole name was Abraham Lin- village boys called him “Snowball”, eyes BE was a little black boy coin Blackstone. The which made little Abe roll his eyes and show his teeth in a delightfully alarming manner. Early one morning a cloud of dust could be seen at the end of the little town. The boys shouted as they ran, “The circus has come!” and little Abe ran with them. He followed the splen- did procession up and down the dusty streets. The glittering wagons and spangles and banners fairly made his eyes ache. The band played. The horses with their waving plumes stepped gaily along. The clowns cut up the funniest capers. Elephants and camels were all there. Was there ever such a beautiful circus before? At last they halted at a large common lot. While tents sprang up as if by magic all over the lot, all the animals w T ere fed and the horses carefully groomed. Little Abe carried w r ater, two buckets at a time. All of the beautiful horses must drink. He w ' as helping them to satisfy their needs. This was happiness enough. But when everything was done and the showman handed him a ticket for the afternoon performance, he stared at it as if it couldn’t be real. He just managed to stammer out, “Thank yo, sah.” As he ran homeward with his prize he saw a group of boys with a kitten. The poor creature w r as mewing piteously in the hands of her tormenters. “What yo’ all gwine ter do wit dat er cat?” demanded Abe, stop- ping short. “Roast her,” replied a boy amid a shout of dense laughter from the others. “Give ’er to me,” said Abe sternly, advancing toward the boy. “Well, I guess not. Snowball,” retorted one of the boys. “Yos certainly not gwine to burn er, is ya?” insisted Abe anxiously. “Yes we are,” spoke up another boy, “and you’d better beat it out of here.” “I‘ll give yo dis for ’er,” said Abe, handing over his precious ticket. The boys consulted. Only one ticket could not take them all to the circus, but they could sell it and buy a lot of things to eat with the money. “Aw, take her,” said one of the boys finally, snatching the ticket and throwing the kitten at Abe’s feet. He picked her up gently and walked away. Two great tears fell on kitty’s soft dirty fur. “Dat war gwine ter be a first-class circus,” he said, “but I’s mighty glad I happened ’long in time to save dis poo’ t’ing.” MARGUERITA KARSTEN. THE CLOCK Get up ! Get up ! Look at the clock ! Get up! Get up! No time to talk! The sun is up! ’Tis time to go! You will be late to school, I know! Oh clock, you go so very fast! But, here I am at school at last! Yet, what could I do. If it weren’t for you? The clocks at school are very slow; They seem to take an age to go. A second’s an hour, an hour’s a day. While I sit at my desk and say, “Oh clock, you go so very slow I really don’t believe you go!” Yet, what could I do. If it weren’t for you? CHIYO THOMAS. The Path of War HE day was unbearably hot. The vast plains of Texas seemed to fairly glow with the heat, and for that reason I was glad to help the women with the wash at the spring. It was so delight- fully cool there. Because of poor health, my uncle had come to Texas on a camping trip. Many people joined him, my father, my brother and I included. It was in the days when Indians often left their reservations to go on the war-path or other happy jaunts. I was only four then, and so I cannot remember every particular of the trip, but this incident I can never forget. Being small, I was not as much of a help as I thought I was, but I pattered around, wringing out the small things and doing other sundry jobs — besides getting in the way. I was especially fond of Indians, for those that I had seen had always given me gay trinkets, and so I was delighted to see eighteen or twenty braves come riding over the plains. “See! See !“ I cried. “Injuns come! Injuns! Injuns.” To my surprise, the women gathered up their washing and hastily retreated into the tall grass, pulling me along with them. Disappointed and angry, I commenced weeping. “See! See!” I cried. “Injuns come! Injuns! Injuns!” “Hush!” commanded one o f the women. “Don’t you see their war paint?” At the words “war paint”, my very heart stood still. Obediently I became very quiet. To our horror, the Indians rode up to the spring and dismounted. H ow we hoped they would not see us. They seemed to fear that some- one was following, for while some drank, the others kept watch. The Indians’ bodies were a brilliant red, and fantastically figured in green and blue. Their brightly colored faces were lined grotesquely in black, and their very tufts of hair seemed to bristle with hatred. Toma- hawks, none too bright, and bloody scalping knives hung at their sides. Two or three had pistols and guns, while the rest carried bows and arrows. Had the chief moved but a few feet he would have seen a fright- ened little drab bundle lying in the grass. I watched his hideously painted face anxiously. If he saw me, would he try to carry me away like an- other Indian had? No father would be near to see my kicking red shoes now. This Indian, however, had no blanket under which to hide me, as the others had, so he would not do that. He would kill me! Our horses were tethered nearby, but the tall grass hid them. Mrs. Thornton put a wet towel over the nose of her horse, and Mrs. Jacobs held her pony. The other women crouched in the grass hoping against hope that their steeds would not whinny, for they dared not move. I lay nearest the Indians. Quivering with terror, I squatted there, watching every move they made, and wishing that I could move farther away. Around a clump of bushes the water was ditsurbed, there were prints of our footsteps in the mud, and every sign of people being near. Should the Indians move around those reeds such plain evidence would give our hiding place away. Then, without doubt, after finishing with us, they would go to the settlement and continue their bloody work. We could easily tell by their bloody tools and watchfulness that they already had done some pillaging. Time seemed to stand still. Would they never go on? Why did it take them so long to drink? Now that they had finished drinking, why did not they go on? One of the braves was moving toward the reeds! I must do something to stop him! I was about to pop up and say, “Don’t go there! You may see us”, when one warrior whispered to the chief. He whirled around and gazed intently over the plain. A guttural com- mand was given — they were on their horses and away ! I wailed and wept, now, with fright and relief. As soon as the danger was passed we mounted our steeds and rode to camp. That night soldiers arrived from Ft. Worth, telling of the hor- rible massacres committed by these same Indians. The next morning our baggage was being piled into the covered wagons and soon we were roll- ing over the plains to Ft. Worth ADELE MONGES. MY GRANDMOTHERS GARDEN In my grandmother’s old-fashioned garden. There are old fashioned flowers rare. There are pansies, and tulips, and mignonette. And towering lilies there. There are pink little baby roses. And tiny forget-me-nots, too. That are blue as grandmother’s eyes are. As blue as the sky is blue. ROBERT LADDISH. The Thundering Herd two sons, Ralph, aged 9, and John, aged 1 4. They were headed west toward California, the land of great promise. They had been with a group of other travelers but they had an accident with their wagon and they were obliged to drop behind. They became lost on the plains and they were almost out of both food and water. The situation was becoming very serious, indeed. They could get water only at the water holes. It was in the early morning that they heard a great rumbling like a million hoofs. The ground fairly trembled. Mr. Sutter stopped the oxen and went to a nearby knoll from which he could look over the sur- rounding plains. And to his great dismay he could see nothing but buf- faloes. He hurried back to the wagon and the boys helped him unyoke the oxen and put the back end of the wagon towards the oncoming avalanche of buffaloes. They tied the oxen to the wagon so they would not be swallowed up by the buffaloes. When that thundering herd came upon them, Mr. Sutton and the boys began shooting. One buffalo was tossed up in the wagon bed and there he was killed by one of John’s well-aimed shots. In the meantime, the majority of the herd was swerving away from the wagon, because the dead buffaloes served as a bulwark in front of the wagon. After the avalanche of buffaloes had passed, Mr. Sutter and the boys dressed the one they had shot. They now had enough meat to eat so they started on their journey again. They came to a water hole at last after a long time of traveling without water. They filled their water kegs and let the oxen quench their thirst. They took enough water to last them until they came to the next hole. They camped by the hole that night. The next morning they saw several scattering herds of buffaloes but they did’t kill any. That afternoon they found the trail of their friends and followed it. That night they found them all dead. They had been murdered by a wandering war party of Apache Indians. The fortunate Sutters had thus been saved from both murder and starvation. They again started out, and after three weeks of steady traveling reached California. Mr. Sutter found a beautiful little valley where he built a cosy little home for his family. m ANY years ago a prairie schooner was slowly wending its way across the dry plains. It was drawn by two mottled oxen. The occupants of the schooner were Mr. and Mrs. Sutter and their The boys were educated at home as there were no schools. Mr, Sutter began prospecting for gold and he struck a rich vein. This devel- oped into the Sutter mine, the richest mine ever found in those days. Quite a large village grew up around the mine. After a few years Ralph and John married two of the prettiest girls in the village. They made their homes in the little valley where their father and mother had first settled in the wonderful West. NETTIE LAWSON. A Pony Express Rider T WAS my great-grandfather that had this thrilling experience in the ’60’s while riding in what is now Nevada but what was then a bare waste of desert land. The wind was beating against Jack Hart’s face and his legs were aching from holding them around the pony’s thin flanks. But this was not all that was troubling him. He was being chased by Indians, who were slowly but surely gaining on him. What if they caught him? He dared not think about that. Jack was a pony express rider and he was riding twice his distance that day, as the man at the end of his route had been killed by Indians. And now Jack was being chased by these same merciless warriors. As Jack made a turn he was confronted by a wide river with all of the bridge gone except a little piece at this end. There was only one thing to do and that was to hide. To turn back would mean to be captured and to try to swim the river meant certain death. So he looked around for a hiding place. Suddenly he had an idea. He went out into the water, pulling his horse after him. He then tied his horse’s mouth with a piece of deer skin so he would not make any noise. This being done, he went under the piece of bridge and lay down on the wet sand. Soon he heard the hoofbeats of the Indian ponies coming nearer and nearer, and finally the Indians talking right above him. They could not understand what had become of Jack. There were no footprints on the other side, so they concluded that he was drowned and turned back to face the anger of their chief. Jack lay still until the Indians were out of hearing. Then he got up, stretched his cramped legs, and started on again with his message. MARGARET MOLONEY. Nearly Going Up — or Down H, PLEASE, please tell me a story,” begged Barbara, ‘‘a nice long one, about when you were a little girl.” Barbara and Miss Marjorie were seated under a drooping willow near a chuckling ittle stream, and with a plate of Belinda’s best cookies, they were whiling away a pleasant afternoon. “Well, let me think; what shall I tell you?” Miss Marjorie asked thoughtfully. “Anything, just anything, only make it nice and long,” Barbara answered. “All right.” So w ith a final cookie Miss Marjorie began: “A long, long time ago when I was a little girl, about four years old, my father, because of poor health, left Boston and moved to Texas. There, in order to make a living for his family, he kept a ‘general store’. About ten miles from us was a large Indian reservation. From there the Indians came to our store frequently for supplies. Tobacco and fire- water were greatly in demand; but my father knew better than to keep liquor, for if an Indian drank only a little, it always excited and crazed him until he was ready for the war path. Then, of course, he would destroy anything and everything without mercy. “One morning, my father having seated me upon the counter, I took great delight in watching my two little red shoes, which, only the day before had come from the East. Then suddenly, loud wa r whoops were heard. My father, standing behind the counter, saw through the win- dow a band of Indians in their war paint galloping toward the store. Louder and louder beat their horses’ hoofs. Nearer and nearer they drew. Jumping from their mounts they rushed into the store. Paint — feathers — Indians — confusion was everywhere. “Tobaccy, tobaccy, fire-water, fire-water,” they yelled. My father realized that any false move would be fatal, and scalping would be our fate. Two little red shoes tapping on wood reminded him of an open barrel of gunpowder which stood before the counter. A sud- den thought struck him. Being blown up would be kinder than death with slow torture. Desperately he hunted in his pockets for a match — first in his vest-pocket, then in his hip-pocket — but both were empty. Louder and louder clamored the excited, drunken Indians. Then father remembered he had left his matchbox on a shelf in another corner. ‘Wait,’ he said to the circle of painted wild men, ‘I go get them.’ And making his way through the shouting crowd, he soon found his matches. Striking one and holding it over the barrel of gunpowder, he said: ‘Umph, umph, look, look — drop match — all go up!’ A single spark would have sent us up — or maybe down,” laughed Miss Marjorie, “who knows?” “The excited Indians realized the danger and hurried pell-mell from the store. Once outside they leaped on their horses and were gone. My father felt his scalp and breathed a sigh of relief. “After that we were never again troubled with Indians.” RUTH LYSER. My Favorite Hiding Place der. But look, do you see that branch that brushes against the telephone post? That is the secret. After climbing the post, which is as easy as walking up some stairs, it is a simple thing to grasp a branch and step lightly over on a strong bough. To one unaccustomed to the tree, it would seem a regular network of branches and so high as to make one dizzy. But it is like my own backyard to me. After running along a branch a few yards and climbing up a few feet more, I arrange myself comfortably and draw the branches snugly around me. When I hear the “Ella-ella-ellson-free”, I quickly drop from branch to branch, slide down the mam trunk, jump a few feet and land in the soft earth on all fours. It is a little easier than to go around by the post. After I run into the base, free, everyone wonders where my hiding place is. You see they don’t even suspect “my tree” at all. My tree is on the top of a slight hill and I can get a wonderful view from my little perch. Shrubbery grows all over the ground and I can pass in and out freely by hiding m the underbrush as I run along. At the bottom of the hill is a little brook that ends in a large pond. I can just see the glint of the sun shining on it away in the distance, from my look- out. Opposite the pond is an abandoned schoolhouse with a sagging roof, and an old, moss-covered well. Some windy night this old building is going to blow over and be just a pile of brushwood. OU should see my favorite hiding place. It is a snug little branch away up in a tall tree. No one ever suspects this could be so used because it seems impossible to climb the tree without a lad- ENID KEYES. It Worked pupil until they came to Susan. Buster punched Jimmy and said, “Jimmy, there is Susan powdering again. Aren’t girls the limit?” “They sure are,” Jimmy said. “Look! Mary and Barbara are at it too !” “Girls, this is no place to powder and primp,” the teacher was heard to say sternly, a few minutes later. “I wish you girls wouldn’t bring your compacts to school. I never did when I went to school. I shall have to think of some way to stop this.” At this, Jimmy and Buster began laughing and they laughed so loud and so long that the teacher sent both boys out of the room. When they got outside, Buster gave Jimmy a pinch and said, “Jimmy, I’ve got a dandy idea. Listen here! Teacher said she’d like to think of a way to stop the girls from powdering in school. You know the gir ls nearly always blush at everything we do as if we were a mistake. Well I have it exactly. To-morrow (if the teacher will let us) we’ll bring our fathers’ shaving sets and begin shaving when the girls begin powdering. Then they will see how silly it looks to us to see them powdering.” “That’s a keen idea! Let’s ask teacher if we can do it,” Jimmy replied. “Gee, if it will only work, we’ll tell her it’s both of our ideas,” Buster said. Just then the door opened and the teacher said that the boys might go in. “Just a minute, please, teacher. We want to tell you something,” Buster said. “Well, what is it?” the teacher asked sharply. Buster and Jimmy told her of their idea and nearly fell over when the teacher laughed and said they might try it. At recess the news soon spread around to th e different boys and it was decided that they would all bring their fathers’ shaving sets and see how the plan worked out. Bright and early the next day the boys appeared at school but just as if nothing was going to happen. The bell rang soon and the boys marched into the room. Before the boys got in the room Buster said, S Buster Benson looked up from his book he looked around the room at his different schoolmates and found that Jimmy Black, his chum, was also looking around. Their eyes followed each “As soon as the girls take out their compacts I’ll cough. That will be the signal to take out our shaving sets. The boys agreed to this and in a little while were in their seats waiting impatiently for the girls to take out their compacts. A half hour went by and the boys were giving up all hope, when just then they heard Buster cough. They looked around — about six or more of the girls were busy powdering their faces and combing their hair. One by one the boys drew out their shaving sets and slowly started to pretend they were going to shave. The girls looked around in aston- ishment, especially the girls who had been powdering. Susan, who was one of the girls, rushed up to the teacher and said, “Teacher, please make the boys stop that. They embarrass us to death.” At this the boys laughed and, much to the amazement of the girls, the teacher laughed too. She had sided in with the boys. In a little while, seeing that all of the girls had not yet caught on to the joke, she told them of Buster and Jimmy’s idea. The girls took it harder than she had expected, but much to her delight, she didn’t see a girl using her compact in school for a long time. Buster and Jimmy went around as happy as kings. Every time Buster looked at Jimmy he would say, “Gee, Jimmy, it did work!” CATHERINE DAVIES. NIGHT The sun sank slowly behind the mountains in the west; The birds in the trees flew home to rest; A little lake, the mountains cold and gray. Reflected on its bosom as in peaceful rest it lay. No clouds were in the deep blue sky. And evening drew on in the heavens high. Then over the earth dropped the mantle of night Studded with silver stars cold and bright. Night to all creatures brings calm peace and rest If daily they’ve given to God their best. DORIS WALSH. An Episode in a Chinese Port ' that infested the place that Uncle Sam’s ships were to be protected, and also to allow the officers to pay their respects to the mandarin and learn all they could of the port. Of course, the sailors greeted the opportunity to get ashore and split up into small bands to scour the town for excitement. One of the groups met a Chinese priest who had been educated in England and spoke English well. He told the sailors this story: A house which was set back from the road had been considered haunted for many years. None of the superstitious Chinese would go near it at night and most dreaded going by it at any time. Although he did not believe in spooks, nevertheless it was true that at midnight gongs were heard and through the boarded-up windows a dim light could be seen. Some had even gotten so close as to hear muffled footsteps on the uncarpeted upper floors. The sailors were much excited. They got together and elected two officers who got permission from the captain to go into the house that night. About 1 0 o’clock the sailors hid around the house near enough to hear a signal. The young officers with the priest entered the house and sat on a couch which was in the bare hall. They waited impatiently. It was so quiet that the officers were disappointed and they fell almost asleep. But on the hour of 1 2 they were aroused with a start. Gongs were sounding, a yellow light mixed with weird shadows showed down the stairway and shuffling footsteps were heard. The priest rose, took a candle from his pocket, lit it and motioned for the others to follow. When they started up the steep, narrow stairs, all became quiet and as dark as before. When they reached the top, their way was barred by a long, heavy door. The priest paused a moment, tried the door, which opened slightly, and then closed as though it was pushed by a terrible force. They were all pondering what to do next, when a gust of air swept by them, the candle went out, and the priest disappeared. The officers became alarmed and one fired two shots, which was the signal for the house to be surrounded. With guns in hand, they thrust open the door. A candle furnished the only light in the room. On the floor was the priest with a Chinese dagger through his heart. As they looked around, dark Chinese faces seemed to appear, then disappear through the floor near the walls. However, after the first shot was fired at them, they were lost from sight. OME thirty years ago one of Uncle Sam’s war vessels dropped anchor in the Chinese port of Swatow. There were probably no better reasons for stopping there than to show the bandits The officers heard a commotion and went downstairs. In front of the house they saw the sailors struggling against the human spooks. Since the sailors with guns were against the Chinese with daggers, the Ameri- cans soon won the sruggle. They turned them over to the Chinese authorities, who came to their assistance. The authorities discovered that the captives were pirates who had been robbing the merchant ships. The pirates had taken the house and used the superstition of the people to secure safety for themselves. The Chinese were so pleased with the sailors that they gave them $50 for every captive. Also, during the rest of the time that the Americans were in port, the Chinese gave feasts for them and did all in their power to please them. FRANCES SYNDHAM. The Diamond Hand numerous yarns. He began: “I was first mate on the Wachusset. We were seven days out from a port of the south seas, I cannot recall the name. We had been having bad weather, and everyone was pretty gloomy. I had first watch that night and it was a ghastly one. About 1 0 o’clock I heard a thud some- where on the bottom of the boat. Something had been caught in the rudder. I called the captain and with the aid of some seamen, we suc- ceeded in lowering a man to see what the trouble might be. He carried an axe in one hand and had a lantern tied around his belt. I heard him hack with the axe and in a few moments he yelled up, ‘It’s a dead shark.’ “We threw him a rope which he tied around the tail of the monster. Then we all pulled and in a few moments we had the shark on deck. He was a big fellow, some fifteen feet in length. “ ‘Now,’ said the captain, ‘that we have him here what’ll we do with him? How did he die?’ he added. ‘There seem to be no signs of a fight with another shark.’ “We decided to cut him up. When we cut his stomach open there were all sizes of fish he had eaten. I let out a yell and grabbed for an object, for what attracted my attention was a human hand! I held it up, and on a finger was a large, glistening diamond ring ! Where did it come from? Whose hand was it? A thousand questions at once! The whole crew was excited. Some of the superstitious ones were afraid to look at NE day last summer an old friend of my father visited us. He was an old sailor, having spent the greater part of his life on the During the course of the afternoon he told us one of his sea. it. The ring itself was beaten and twisted so I pried the diamond out and kept it. “ ‘We’ll just have to wait till we get to port to see if anyone has been reported missing,’ ” said the captain. “We arrived in port some 60 days later. After inquiring I learned that a man had been lost off the schooner Vixen. The papers had con- tained the story of the missing man a month back, but I wanted the truth so I went to the master of the Vixen. He explained the story to me, which was as follows: ‘Three days out of port we found a stowaway in the hold. He was a shriveled-up little rat with a half dead look. We set him to work but he did little. The next night was stormy and I saw him out on deck. Suddenly he raised a bottle to his lips, drank, and pitched into the sea. I ran out on deck and picked up the bottle. There was something left in it so I took it to the ship’s doctor. After analyzing it, the doctor found the liquid to be one of the deadliest poisons known to science.’ “I then told the captain my story and we both agreed, after the man fell overboard the shark chewed off his hand. The poison left on the hand killed the shark and destroyed the gold ring but left the diamond unharmed.” There was a pause. “But,” he added, “you have not heard all the story, for here is the diamond.” He held up his hand, and there, glisten- ing before my eyes, was a large sparkling diamond, set in a heavy gold rin§ ' — TOM McCORD. Lovisa Clark — Her Diary February, 788 — Father feels discouraged with everything since the Revolution and says that we must go west. He has heard of fine lands in Watauga Valley. We cannot afford slaves and our land is getting worse every year. Anarch, 788 — A number of our neighbors have decided to go with us next month when the roads are open. We have begun to pack already. Mary Ann and I have kitted some new stockings. Her s are red and mine are blue, and we have started some mittens to match. The women of the nearby farms are packing away salt pork, fried sausage and mince pies for the journey. April, 1788 — We start in a week! All of our farm wagons have been made into prairie schooners, but even now I can not quite believe that we are leaving our old home. I am busy all the time doing every- thing imaginable and I hardly can find time to write a word in my diary. I do not suppose I will again until we are settled in the West. May, 788 — In looking over my diary I find that my last state- ment was correct. We are settled in the West. We live in a little cabin made of logs, which the men have built. Mary Ann lives on the next farm and we have become the best of friends. Mother and father are very happy here because there are no aristocrats or tax collectors or law- yers. It is certainly a different life from the life we led in the East. Father has planted his corn and some of it is coming up already. He says that it is much easier to farm here than on the sea coast. Mother is giving a quilting bee this afternoon and Mary and I will be there. June, 1788 — The weather is lovely and warm now and I am wearing the gingham dresses from the cloth that mother made last year. We are planning to have fur coats and caps next winter from the beavers that live in the rivers. July, 1788 — The twelfth anniversary of the Declaration of Inde- pendence. We fired off the blacksmith’s anvil this morning with great clamor. After that we had a picnic with the neighbors in the grove over on Brown’s farm. There was speaking and father read our copy of the Declaration of Independence. August, 788 — I rode home from the meadow today on a big load of hay and almost slid off. Father had a huge pumpkin on the load and it fell off behind and almost hit Towser. The pumpkin was wrecked! September, 1 788 — We started in to school last week. The teacher is living with us because we were the only ones who had an extra room. October, 1788 — It is getting colder now and Mary Ann and I are making some use of the mittens we knitted last March. On Saturday we went nutting and brought home a big sack of walnuts. November, 1788 — The ground is covered with snow. To-morrow is Thanksgiving Day and father has shot a turkey in the woods for the dinner. I can smell the pumpkin and mince pies ! December, 1788 — I wish it were Christmas! Two weeks off and it seems as if it never would come ! There is to be a Christmas tree in the schoolhouse and we will trim it with pop corn and tassels of col- ored wool. January, 1789 — We have been here nearly a year and already we have almost forgotten our old home. It is very cold. We keep warm at night by heating stones by the fire and putting them in our beds. This is the last piece of paper I have and I will not be able to get another till the snow is gone, so good-bye to my diary for the present. Fovisa Clark. ALICE LEHMER. BERKELEY Where bloom the fairest flowers of earth, Where sweetest breezes have their birth; Where rounded hilltops meet the sky And birds and bees go flitting by — That’s Berkeley! Where ocean’s mist comes floating down And wraps in soft, grey folds, the town; Where household fires gleam warm and bright. And children laugh with gay delight — That’s Berkeley! sparkling waters wash the shores, flash the boats with dripping oars, sunshine floods the skies of blue, hearts are warm and friends are true — That’s Berkeley! GRACE PEW. A Mystery Revealed you nail that board down that is sticking up on the walk?” “Heavens alive! Now I have to do some work.” John went grumbling away to get nails and a hammer. Then he started to work. “Hey, ma, I can’t get this old plank to stay down.” “Try, try again, my son,” said his mother. “Well, I guess I might as well jump on this old board for awhile till it stays down.” After three enormous jumps, John felt the plank underneath going down. He stopped in amazement, and lifted up the plank, but all he saw was ground. John then stepped on the ground underneath the plant. Crash, bang, bump! He found himself sur- rounded by stone even above his head. “Well of all the funny things!” muttered John. “How did this happen? I guess I fell through the ground into a secret cave, maybe! Here’s for some fun.” John got up and stumbled along the stone walk. Presently he came to stairs leading downward. He followed these till he felt a door. On falling through this door, John immediately lighted some matches and beheld a room H, GOODNESS! I wish there were something exciting happen- ing. There never is around this old house,” grumbled John. “John, John,” called his mother, “come here a second. Will Where Where Where Where filled with guns, bullets, and revolutionary uniforms. In one corner of this room there stood a table with an old-fashioned lamp on it. John lifted the lamp for examination and out of it fluttered a paper on which was writing. The paper read as follows: “The British have surrounded the house. There is no hope left for us to escape. The one who finds this secret room may have what he values in it. I sincerely hope that one of my family will find it. They are away at present and do not know of this place. The British will burn the house over our heads if we stay longer. — John Bush. P. S. — W are holding a secret meeting here.” John was so excited over this letter that he fell against a chair, which gave a weird creak. Once again John found himself lying on a stone floor, not in the secret room, but in his very own basement. After John realized that by falling on the chair he had touched a hidden spring which had opened a way for him to get back into his own basement, he yelled, “Hey, Ma, Ma, Ma, come here quick! Hurry up, hurry up!” Mrs. Bush came tumbling down the stairs thinking John had broken his head, or that some unheard-of catastrophe had occurred. “Child, child, my precious John, what in the world has happened, and where have you been?” After John, with many excited interruptions from his mother, had related all that had befallen him, she said, ‘Why, John, I have never heard anything so exciting in all my life. Your great, great, great grand- father was the one who wrote this letter. He was captured by the British. He escaped, but was killed before he arrived home.” “Oh, mother, if you had not told me to keep on trying to get that board to stay down, I would not have found that secret room. Glory, I’ll never again complain about nothing exciting happening. After we find the secret opening to the room my club can meet here!” DOROTHY HALLORAN. THE BUMBLE BEE There was a little bumble bee that went “Zum, zum, zum”; Out in the light of the jolly, bright Sun, sun, sun; When I said, “Little bumble bee, please. Come, come, come”; He only turned and looked at me and said, “Zum, zum, zum.’ JEAN STOVER. VACATION DAYS Vacation days will soon be here. The gladdest days of all the year. When I with dad go camping out, A shootin’ deer and catchin’ trout. Pitchin’ camp ’longside the road, Livin’ in a rough abode. That’s the kmda life I like Puttin’ work off for a hike. Getting up at five o’clock And fishing at the river dock, Eating breakfast at the camp And living like a reg’lar tramp; Swimming in a swimming tank. Diving off the diving plank, That’s the kinda life for me. Oh hurry, dad, it’s time, you see ! MARIE BARSTOW. A Narrow Escape HERE was a very rich cattle owner who was offered a fine bull. He bought him and sent him up into the mountains the following summer with some of his other cattle. In the fall they all returned to the valley for their winter quarters and the following year they went up again. In the fall of the second year he refused to come back and this kept on for three years. One day during the summer of the fourth year the owner, Mr. Fisk, received a letter from the State Forestry Department which briefly stated that it would be necessary for him to come up to the mountains and kill this bull which had become very ferocious from his wild life and had killed one person and wounded many others. When he arrived at the hut of the herder who took care of his stock, the bull was nowhere to be seen. He had gotten wind of his murderers evidently. For about a week they searched for him. The last day before the owner’s departure they went out once more to try and find him. They had just left the floor of a little canyon and were climbing out by a steep trail. The floor of the canyon was quite level with a number of large pines growing in it. The sides were almost precipices and the trail leading out was just wide enough for single file. After going around a bend in the path they came upon a stretch of the path that was visible. They saw a great whirl of brown dust moving rapidly down the trail. All of a sudden it commenced to make noises. It came bellowing and snorting, roaring and almost shrieking when it caught sight of the two men. It came steadily on. Their only way for escape was to retrace their steps. They ran back to the floor of the can- yon. The bull began to chase the herder. The bull left Mr. Fisk free, and then he realized that he was the only one with a gun. The herder had nothing to protect himself with. What could he do? How could he escape those jaws of that bull? These questions all confronted him at once and he knew not which way to turn for help. The herder ran for the nearest tree, hoping to be able to climb it, but alas, it was too large. He went to the next and found it too large also. By the time he reached the third the bull was almost upon him. Fortunately this tree was extra large and he began to race around it with the bull tearing after him. Ail of a sudden he went into a hole in the tree. Mr. Fisk thought this a fine time to shoot the bull. He had his finger on the trigger when out popped the man. This happened over and over again. Finally in desperation he took a wild shot and killed the bull. The herder immediately came out again. Mr. Fisk, in a rage, went over to him and said, “You fool, why didn’t you stay in that tree? Every time you came out I just about killed you instead of the bull. Let it be a lesson to you !” The herder, trembling from fear and exhaust’on, replied: “Well, sir, there was a great big grizzly bear inside.’’ MARION GORRILL. A Strange Hostess OME years ago a party of horseback riders left Hot Springs, South Dakota, for a vacation in the Black Hills. They rode to Custer where that general made his last stand against the Indians, and after visiting this historical place, turned their faces homeward. In the late afternoon a black cloud gathered over a mountain two or three miles away. Never thinking they might be overtaken by the storm, the boys encouraged their broncos to make better time. It was not long before the cloud over their heads burst in a heavy downpour. The wind, rain and hail made them seek shelter under the trees. A broad flash of lightning showed a man standing on a hill nearby. The party agreed to move on in hopes of reaching a dryer spot. This was an unfortunate plan, for in the depths of the thick woods they lost the trail. The horses became frightened and unmanageable. Suddenly they came upon a cabin and all were delighted. Upon knocking at the low door an old woman who looked very much like a witch opened it and in a friendly manner, invited the party to enter and immediately offered each one a drink of coffee. One of the older men hurriedly refused, not trusting his hostess. The others followed his example wisely. The storm cleared as quickly as it had gathered. Upon leaving this lonely cabin, the boys saw armed men hiding along the road at every turn. Late that night the travelers reached home safely. In a day or two horse thieves were brought to Hot Springs, and, as they passed the court- house for trial, the boys recognized the old witch and one of the men they had seen hiding in the woods. It isn’t every day boys can be entertained by horse rustlers and come out alive. TOM SWOBK. A THRIFT FABLE There was a little boy who was not so very old. Who found in the street three pieces of gold. He picked them up and shouted for joy And dashed right off to buy a new toy. The toy cost one of his pieces bright; Another he spent on a ferris wheel flight. He looked at the last piece of gold with a glow And with it took Jenny to see a show. Then, bidding good-bye to his lady fair. He trotted home through the evening air. His mother met him upon the lawn “Alas!” she sobbed, “our money is gone. Your father is bankrupt,” she brokenly said, “And now we haven’t a piece of bread. “Have you any money?” she asked her boy. He thought of the circus, the girl and the toy, And of the food that he might have bought, For his mother if he had only thought. Moral- Bank your money, little girls; Don’t spent so much on waving curls. Bank your money, little boys; Don’t spend so much on useless toys. JOHN RICHARDSON. Patriotic Thoughts TO OUR FLAG The emblem of our country, The stars and stripes so true. Hang high and gleam with glory Above us in the blue — Our Flag! We worship, honor, love it. With patriotic heart; We’ll fight for it with gladness; From it we ne’er will part. Our Flag! It stands for peace and loyalty, Our sacred banner true ; The emblem of all goodness — ’Tis the red, the white and blue Our Flag! ISABELLE HUSSEY. OUR GLORIOUS FLAG The flag of our nation. The red, white and blue, Is the standard of freedom And liberty, too Her home is the blue sky, And we are her stars; The field is our country, Our good deeds, her bars. Her glories are many, Her faults, they are few, For she stands for all That is honored and true. BETTY NOAKES. AMERICA America, my country fair. With domes and turrets in the air, I love you much for your blue skies And colors gladsome to the eyes. I love you in your open fields In which the farmer’s labor yields Fruit and gram for the coming year, And a place to play for the children dear. I love your men in all their strength Who made you what you are in length And breadth and fitting highness too — The strong-brained men who are really you. FRED BROWN. The Wobblewink «gL WAS traveling in a train. All went nicely until we came to a tunnel. It was pitchy black inside. After waiting ten minutes didn’t come out. We became alarmed. The conductor we said it was one of the longest tunnels on the line, but he had never known a train to take so long in going through it. A man put his hand out of the window. Immediately his hand was crushed against the top of the window. When he was asked what he had felt outside, he said, “I thought it was a cyclone that was aiming straight at my hand. One of the passengers said he thought the bottom of the tunnel had been blown out. Everybody agreed that this was probably what had happened. We did not know that we were letting precious moments slip by. An- other person remarked that if this theory were correct we were racing down to the center of the earth at a speed unheard of. Everybody groped around at the windows to see if he could see a lake of fire somewhere in the black depths. All the time it had been growing hotter and hotter. Presently somebody called out that he saw a little red speck about the size of a pinhead down somewhere. All of a sudden, crash! smash! and the cars were literally crumpled like paper although they were made of steel. I was thrown through one of the windows. Before I knew it I landed on something that was con- tinually rising. This animal or what I was riding was scaly, tough, in fact so tough that I could not stick my knife through the thick hide. I felt all over him and found a big fan-like flat surface on top of him. He must have had a fan on the tip of his tail for once I was obliged to hold on for dear life. I was just going to be torn away when the blast ceased. We kept rising until something hit me on the head and I was knocked out. If a referee had counted the minutes I was out, his hand would have become tired. When I came to I was lying beside the track a few feet from the tunnel. I guess the animal had gone back into the crater for he was nowhere to be found. To this day I don’t know what befell the other poor travelers. Perhaps they were caught in the molten pit, I don’t know. I thought I saw one of them on the street, but I hur- ried away without finding out. Perhaps it was only his ghost. LAURENCE GRAVES. A Devonshire Knight in a Modern City Where was he? Ah! now he knew. He was in the country. All of a sudden he heard a loud whistle and a long, black object slid out of the trees at the other end of the field. Sir Hively fell on his hands and knees, at the same timt repeating, “Holy Mary!” over again and again. At this, Jim Sloane, the farmer, came running over. When he saw what was the cause of the loud exclamations, he stopped and burst out laughing. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he roared. “What do you think you are doing in that tin contraption?” Sir Hively returned “This is my armor.” “Well, come into the house and I’ll give you a decent suit of clothes,” said Jim Sloane. They became quite friendly that night and the next morning started for the city. When the train came to the station. Sir Hively hid behind Jim Sloane, at the same time calling out, “Don’t let it get me.” Jim burst out laughing. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?” he asked. “N-N-Nothing,” sheepishly returned Sir Hively, who looked as if he had seen his ghost. They boarded the train and swept on towards the city. Sir Hively was too frightened to speak. Soon, however, they arrived. When they alighted from the train Sir Hively saw an automobile. He immediately popped up with a question which was, “Where’s the horses?” To which Jim replied that there were none. He then told Sir Hively all about the automobile. Soon they came to a park and Jim told him to stay there until he came back, as he had some shopping to do. Sir Hively gladly consented as he was tired walking around. He lay down on a bench and went to sleep. A policeman came along and awoke him rather roughly. “What are you doing to Sir Hively? You shall be punished for treating a noble so,” came from Sir Hively. The policeman said, “Yes, yes, Napoleon, did you escape from Napa? Come along with me,” he added. He took Sir Hively by the collar and went to a patrol box. He called up the chief and told him everything. The chief said that he would send a patrol auto. “Whom are you talking to?” demanded Sir Hively. “To Jose- phine,” returned the policeman. “Who’s Josephine?” inquired Sir Hively. “Your wife, of course,” exclaimed the policeman, who by this time was about losing his wits. “She isn’t. My wife is Lady Jane,” NE day as Sir Hively was hawking in the woods a huge oak tree split and, falling, struck him on the head. He was stunned and his mind traveled seven centuries ahead of the times. proudly answered Sir Hively. “Oh, well, have it your own way then,” retorted the policeman sarcastically. Then the patrol auto drove up. Sir Hively attempted to run away but he was held tightly. He was put inside with his captor. When they started he made a rush for the door, but stumbled over the policeman’s foot. Thus he hit his head on the door. “What has happened to me?” inquired Sir Hively when he awoke and found himself in his own bed with Lady Jane at his side. He was told what had happened and that night by the light of the huge fireplace he related the happenings of which he had dreamt. ROBERT GARRELS. T he Vanquished Suitors E HAD annoyed my baby sister for so long that at last I com- mitted the unavoidable. I insist that it was not without due pro- vocation. He entered our hitherto happy home about the middle of June, in the company of my sister Jean, who had been playing with a little friend in the garden. We had never met him before, but everyone in town knew the family to which he belonged, so that he felt himself privileged to enter our home on a footing of intimacy. He worshipped Jean. Oftentimes when she was taking a nap in the nursery he would sit beside her, humming softly till she fell asleep. We came to accept his presence as a matter of course, I in particular, until suddenly I perceived an overzealousness in his manner towards my older sister. He no longer pretended to be engrossed in Jean, even stop- ping his afternoon visits to her bedside that he might have more time to entertain my other sister. That was the beginning of a struggle that has put me in the crim- inal class . Every evening I waited for him, hoping against hope to catch him in some unguarded moment. But he was too quick for me, coming and going as usual unharmed. Then one day, all unexpecting his presence, I sat down on the porch. A moment later he attacked me from the back. I swung around at him, murder in my heart. All sense of conse- quence was forgotten in the glory of the moment, as I crushed his life out by means of a tightly folded paper. Not until I looked and saw his blood on my weapon did I realize what I had accomplished. I had killed him — the largest mosquito in Alameda county. HUDSON NAGLE. JUNIOR ORCHESTRA The junior orchestra is preparing two selections for our annual concert and are working hard. The members of this orchestra are the following : First Violins — Eleanor Jewett (leader), George Hill, Sylvia Rosenquist, Lucile Janson, Milhcent Cleverdon, Florence Staples, Claire Chapenot, Ruth Ehlers, Pearl Rowland; second violins, Helen Cooke (leader), Sterling Gorrill, Warren Webb, Madeline Estrat, Moore Har- rison, Bert Morton, Theresa Wood, Florence Cryer, Eleanor Barker. Cellos — Donald McCorkle, Ruth Mohler. Flutes — Robert Garrels, Charles Corbett. Clarinets — First, Bert Murman, Ward Hupp; second, Herbert Blasdale, Edmund Heitman. Trombone — Allen Holmes, Wilson Baxter. Cornets — First, Frank Solinsky; second, Walter Miller. Viola — Madge Talbot, Anne Carleton. Pianist — John Good. Drums — Snare, Fyle Byers; bass, Max Hendrickson. WILLARD SENIOR ORCHESTRA The Senior Orchestra is doing excellent work this term. They assitsed at Mr. Cramer’s plays, played three selections for the Willard Mothers’ Club, and will assist with the H9 plays, give four selections at our Annual Concert, and play for the H9 class program. We regret that we lose many of our members, who will attend High School next term. The following comprise this orchetsra: First Violins — Doris Sanders, Eleanor Jewett, Donald Good, Tam Gibbs, Pearl Rowland, Margaret Biddle, Helen Cooke, Eleanor Shaw, Marion Geddes, Ted Dungan and Cleto Correa. Second Violins — Sylvia Rosenquist, Sterling Gorrill, Lucile Jan- son, Moore Harrison, Bert Morton, Millicent Cleverdon, Florence Staples, Ruth Ehlers, Clare Chapenot, Florence Cryer. Cellos — Marion Gorrill, Marion Humphrey and Donald Mc- Corkle. Viola — Madge Talbot. Cornets — First, John Allen, Junior Guy; second, Frank Solinsky and Walter Miller. Clarinets — First, Bert Murman, Harold Stuart: second, Charles Oldenbourg and Herbert Blasdale. Flute — Robt. Garrels. Double Bass — Robert Shuey and Martha Davis. Drums — Bass, Max Hendrickson; snare, Lyle Byers. Pianist — Raymond Smith. Trombone — Jack Abbott and Robert Snyder. WILLARD BAND BAND The band under its director, Mr. Morton, played for the pageant for our Spring Festival. It played for the Berkeley Fair and is prepar- ing four numbers for our annual concert. Its members are the following: Cornets — Solo, John Allen, Junior Guy; first, Walter Miller and Frank Solinsky; second, Raines Griffin and Carl Lindale; third, John McCuliom and Donald Dalziel. Clarinets — First, Harold Stuart, Charles Oldenbourg, McGregor Fallas; second, Bert Murman, Herbert Blasdale; third, Edmund Heit- man and Ward Hupp. Baritone — Weston Gorman. Trombones — First, Jack Abbott; second, Robert Snyder, Herbert Bolton; third, Allen Holmes, Wilson Baxter. Piccolo — Robert Garrels. Tuba — Gardner Armstrong. Mellophone — David Cameron. Saxophones — Marian Haynes, Joe Deering, Rindge Shima. Drums — Bass, Max Hendrickson; snare, Lyle Byers. GLEE CLUB Our Glee Club sang six selections for the State Convention of Mothers’ Clubs at the church on the corner of Dana and Ellsworth streets, and did very creditable work. They are preparing two good selections for our annual concert. The club is composed of the following members : Soprano — Kathryn Clark, Frances Woolsey, May Wood, Beatrice Wilbur, Marion Geddes, Madge Talbot, Florence Fraser, Alice Lewis, Elizabeth Marshall, Noel Walster, Alicia Muller, Idella Landers, Evalyn Kirkman, Jean Kelsey, Anna Lynip, Margaret Rader, Dorothy Bohall, Edith Adams, Marion Yancey, Dorothy Burris, Elizabeth Koughan, Lucile Jansen, Anita McCombs, Edna Bee Rogers, Margaret Herriott, Flelan Baum and Robert Garrels. Altos — Dorothy Smith, Beth Swinn, Laura Bee, Jean Downing, Chiyo Thomas, Ina Hayes, Verna Williams, Vena Willey, Rowena Way, Lois Stewart, Mary F. Lutz, Ida May Palmer, Jean Martin, Vir- ginia Field, Elizabeth Rice, Ethel Rowlands. Alto Tenors — John Richardson, McDonald Moses, George Prosser, Bernard Smith, Gus Elbow, Hugh Wedge, Frank McEneany, Donald Dalziel. Basses — John Allen, Fletcher Abadie, Billy Bland, Vernon Wiles, Wilfred Smith, John Morris, James Martin, Albin Rolin. We are fifty-nine in all. Our accompanist is Raymond Smith. PIANO CLUB The eighth and ninth grade piano club was organized this term with 43 members. The first meeting was held on January 9, 1924 to elect officers. The officers elected for the term were as follows: pres- dent, Florence Fraser; vice-president, Marion Gorrill; secretary, Ray- mond Smith. The first program was held on February 4, 1924. The program was as follows: 1. “Waltz”, Durand Lucile Jansen 2. “Berceuse”, Godard. Harry Andrews 3. “The Flatterer”, Chaminade Evelyn Poston 4. “Second Waltz”, Godard Evelyn Kirkman 5. “Waltz”, Chopin. Madge Talbot 6. “Minuet”, Schubert. Florence Fraser 7. “Moonlight Sonata”, (hirst movement) , Beethoven Raymond Smith 8. “Romance”, Rubenstein Miriam Garfinkle This program was given entirely by high nine pupils. The next program was given by the eighth and ninth grades. It was held on May 2, 1924. The program was very good. It was as follows : 1. “Romance”, Rubenstein Cleon Jeglum 2. “Sonata”, Mozart Kathlyn Clark 3. “ Valse Sentimental,” Chas. Hunter Dorothy Burris 4. “Pierrette”, Chaminade Delphia Jeglum 3. “Minuet”, Schubert Florence Fraser 6. “Valse”, Chopin. Madge Talbot 7. “To Spring”, Grieg.. .... Lucile Jansen 8. “Consolation”... Noel Walster The last program was given by the eighth grades. It was as follows : 1. “Fascination Waltz”, Wachs.. Maizie Johnson 2. “The Myrtles”, Wachs... Claire Trasy 3. “Spinning Song”, Ellmerich Peggy Adams 4. “Confidence”, Mendelssohn Grace Pew 5. “Amtra’s Dance”, Grieg.. Jean Flartzell 6. “Gypsy Rondo”, Haydn. Chiyo Thomas 7. “Narcissus”, Nevin ..Clara Landon 8. “Alone” Frances Garlough 9. “Valse iVennoise”, Krogman. Anona Pickard 9. “Valse Viennoise”, Krogman... Anona Pickard The president, Florence Fraser, played a piano solo at our school concert, May 29, 1924. — Raymond Smith, Secretary. A Joke That Succeeded During a seige of the hoof and mouth disease, as he sat in the bunkhouse one evening listening to the fellows tell what a terrible thing it was, Dan said, “Can cowpunchers catch it?” One of the other fellows said, “Yes, and it’s worse for men that cattle.” “How does it start?” asked Dan. “First your feet begin to burn, then your tongue begins to swell up until you can neither eat nor drink, then you die of thirst.” The next day when Dan had been out on the range about eight hours, he began to get thirsty. As he had had quite a hard ride his feet were sweaty and began to burn. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” yelled Dan as he started off full speed to the doctor, who lived fifteen miles away in the nearest town. “Kerchoo! Kerchoo!” sneezed the doctor. “Just another ioke, Dan. Not hoof and mouth disease, but red pepper in the boots.” PASTIME among cowpunchers is playing jokes on each other. In Arizona on the J. H. Ranch there was a lean, lanky fellow named Dan who was usually the victim of their jokes. HUGH WEDGE. THE TARGET STAFF Marion Gorrill Editor Madge Talbot Manager Associate Editors Florence Fraser, Miriam Garfinkle, Robert Garrels, Marion Geddes Assistants Edith Adams, Esther Anderson, Harry Andrews, Elmore Ban- croft, Margaret Biddle, Wilma Borgfeldt, Clinton Brown, Dorothy Burris, Charlotte Compton, Eleanor Corbett, Betty Cox, Katherine Deacon, Maunne Donaldson, Ted Dungan, Elma Emerson, Susan Guild, Rhoda Hearn, Dorothy Howard, Doris Hoxie, Pierce Hussey, Eucille Janson, Peter Jurs, Enid Keyes, Barbara Kierulff, Evelyn Kirk- man, Elizabeth Koughan, Margaret Lamb, Theodore Ludlow, Laura Luman, Holley Lymp, Ruth Lyser, Tom McCord, Bemce Menard, Adele Monges, Hudson Nagle, Katherine Parker, Virginia Pierce, George Prosser, Margaret Rader, Eleanor Shaw, Dick Sims, Francis Smart, Vena Willey, Enez Witt, Ward Woods. Advisory Board Mr. Clark Miss Christy Principal .. Teacher Fellow students, the Target staff wishes to thank you for your hearty support which has made this issue a possibility. Your subscriptions came in promptly and you contributed generously to the literary section of our magazine. The staff has worked diligently and many have gained honors for special effort. The honor list includes Marion Gorrill (10), Madge Talbot (7), Robert Garrels (4), Marion Geddes (4), Miriam Garfinkle (3), Florence Fraser (3), Elizabeth Koughan (2), Edith Adams (2), Ward Woods (2), Harry Andrews (1), Esther Ander- son (1), Betty Cox (1), Maurine Donaldson (1), Ted Dungan (1), Pierce Hussey (1), Lucile Janson (1), Hudson Nagle (1), Francis Smart ( 1 ) . Robert Garrels, one of our associate editors, designed the cover. We hope you will enjoy this issue of the Target and we wish you all a happy vacation season. Insufficient Playgrounds Has Berkeley a good playground system? No! It has one of the poorest playground systems there is in any high-class city. In Berkeley there is only one large playground and it is near San Pablo Avenue. There is also a playground connected with the Garfield School, and a smaller one in West Berkeley. If a person who lives near the Willard School wants to play base- ball, he must do one of four things: go about fifteen blocks to Bushrod Park, in Oakland; go down to San Pablo Park, which is farther; go to West Field, where he will be chased off by the police; or play in the street at the risk of being injured by an automobile. Berkeley should have a playground between Shattuck and College Avenues. The Garfield School, which has twenty acres of land, has more chance for athletic development than Willard, Edison or Burbank; but the latter two are near playgrounds. Willard needs playgrounds. People should vote bonds for them. The population of Berkeley is increasing rapidly and large apart- ment houses are being built. In a few years there will be no land left for playgrounds and the condition of the children will be worse. The city ought to buy the land before it gets any higher in price, because the chil- drey of to-day will be the citizens of to-morrow and they must be healthy. EDWARD BURKE. Our Cafeteria Something ought to be done about the cafeteria. As it is now it is held in the auditorium wh ' ch is no place for one. The Willard School deserves as good a place for a cafeteria as any other school in Berkeley. TARGET OFFICERS We are very proud of our cafeteria and we heartily thank the mothers who have helped make it a success. They always seem to manage to have each day a variety — always something different. Don’t you think that a building apart from the main building, with tables enough to serve the many children who can’t go home would be a better place than the auditorium for a cafeteria? Fet’s see if we can arouse the community to a realization of our need and inspire them with a desire to remedy the unsatisfactory conditions. DOROTHY HOWARD. Our Books We are very fortunate in having free books. The only thing we are expected to do is to take good care of them so they will be usable for the next person. The free use of books is given to us by the state. These books represent a large investment, because the material in the books is expensive and the people who write have to be paid a large price for their writings. This money is furnished by our parents when they pay taxes. The taxes just now are very high and if we do not take proper care of these books, the money is wasted which might be used for something more beneficial. If we develop a habit of not caring for our books we may soon have no regard for the property and rights of others. Through books we get the best thoughts in the author’s mind. It is a great privilege to read them, but if we deface a book we are not letting the next person have the privilege we had of enjoying a clean, well-cared-for book. When we see a clean book, after it has been used a long time, we know that the former owner had a good character, and was worthy of being trusted with greater things. HOLLEY LYNIP. H onesty Honesty is one of the most important virtues to possess while in school, as well as out. If you are honest in your school work, you will learn a great deal more than one who depends upon other people. If you start stealing small things, such as pencils and pens, you will gradually take larger and more valuable things, and cultivate a habit of crime which often leads you to prison. If you find something of value on the grounds, don’t use the motto, “Finders keepers; losers weepers, ’ but turn it in. It may be much more valuable to the owner than to your self. Even if you don’t get a reward, you have the satisfaction of knowing you did the right thing. If you see someone stealing, report him. That is not tattling. You are not only protecting the property of others, but you are helping the law-breaker by turning him over to the authorities before he becomes a worse criminal. Be honest with yourself. Don’t think you are putting something over on the faculty when you cheat in a test, because you are making a great mistake. You are really harming yourself. How much better it is to go out into the business world with a good reputation. If honesty is such an important characteristic to have, let us start now and be honest in every way. ROBERT SNYDER. STUDENT OFFICERS Julian Unruh.. Dick Sims Marion Gorrill Tom McCord. President Vice-President ...Secretary ...Yell Leader Student Assistance During the past semester Willard has progressed rapidly in several ways; one, in the way of student assistance around the school. However, there is not sufficient co-operation on the part of the students to make our management plan a grand success. But it has been advancing surely, if slowly, and we hope that it is here to stay. The teachers have been assisting in our student government plan. They have made various helpful suggestions to the officers and have aided them in carrying out their instructions to the dot. They have also super- vised the proceedings of the different departments and have started the students in their work. We owe thanks to Mr. Clark, who was at the bottom of the whole plan. He first thought it out and submitted it to the faculty board for approval. Then, after it had bee received by the mstrucors, he put it into existence which, coupled with student and faculty co-operation, is the school management that we know today. But all the energy exerted on the part of Mr. Clark and the teachers will be wasted unless the students co-operate to a greater extent and make the student assistance in the management of our school the very best their united efforts can produce. JULIAN UNRUH, President. A Sleepless Night mer. There are tall, beautiful trees all around and an ice-cold spring not more than fifty feet from the camp. One evening we were sitting around the bonfire with some people who were camping near us. They were the only other ones camping anywhere near there. I don’t know what the conversation was about, but I know everyone was interested but me. It was not really dark yet, and as I changed my position my eyes fell upon a tall tree. Behind it I saw something light in color, and it was very slowly coming toward us. At first I didn’t say anything as I wanted to see what it was. Finally I called their attention to it. My dad said it was a porcupine. We all circled around it, much to its surprise. We chased it around for a few minutes and then went back to the bonfire. The porcupine would not go away and the man camping next to us shot it. We went to bed as usual, but in the middle of the night, mother got up to see what was causing such a disturbance and crackling of leaves in our camp. Much to her surprise, she nearly stepped on two porcupines at the foot of my dad’s cot. Porcupines always love to eat leather, so we judged that they were after our shoes. They were also surprised and they went to the top of a tall tree, just over our cots. Mother got daddy up. He turned the spotlight of the automobile on them and was all ready to shoot them when he found his gun empty. It did not take long to fix it, and when he shot they came down so fast and heavily that it sounded as thought they were going right through the earth. We went to sleep again and the camp was quiet. We had no more porcupines that night. I still have some quills and hair from those porcu- pines and they make me think of that sleepless night. BARBARA BARBER. •m LONG the Feather River, not far from the Feather River Inn, and only a half mile from Mohawk, is a wonderful place to camp. It was there that we spent two weeks camping last sum- Dramatics N Friday evening, April 4th, the Science classes gave an evening of plays were not scientific at all for the splendid lighting The Science classes feel the need of a large motion picture machine and to start the fund they gave the plays. One hundred and eighty dollars was cleared on the plays. People were turned away because of the crowded con- dition of the house. The pro- ceeds of the noon luncheon on Fri- day, April 1 1 , amounting to about $40. were also donated to this cause. The Spring Festival dance netted $59.25 for this fund so now the Science Department is very happy to leave as a result of the year’s work over $250 as a starter for the motion picture fund. Three short plays were loaned by the Evening High School Drama Class. Mr. Cra- mer gave a musical specialty but the hit of the evening was “Sir David Wears a Crown”, given by the pupils of the High Ninth and Low Seventh classes. The costumes and scenery were especially designed for the presentation. Jimmie Martin, Genevieve Lelean, James Arbogast, Patrick Leonard, Sally Brown and Robert Runyan carried the lead- ing parts. PROGRAM By Science Students of Willard Junior High, assited by Evening High School Drama Class Directed by C. S. CRAMER Music by Willard Senior Orchestra Direction, Miss ELLERHORST “The Return of Pierott” Pierette Pierott Musical Specialty — Spanish Dance Vocal Solo Solo Dance _ Vocal Duo Evening High School Drama Class Alice Wells _ Stanley Keller ...Pupils of the Spanish Department .Stanley Keller . Anna Burrows Stanley Keller and Malcom Collins “In Old Manila”— Story of a Rose Evalina “Faith” Mathew, the boy Joan, the mother Death, the snowman.. Jasper, the husband. “Sir David Wears a Crown” — Prologue Device Population Soldiery Mime Milkmaid Bhndman Singer Herald King. King’s Great Aunt. Councilor Headsman Queen. Jester You Mr. Cramer Evening High Drama Class Rosetta Armstrong Marion Wilson A. D. Pebble Roy Cellestres Leland Glass Dick Sherwood Franklin Lewis James Martin .Evelyn Poston Bernice Damon Rindge Shima Hubert Salsbury Billy Wharton Robert Runyan Genevieve Lelean Patrick Leonard Joe Debely Sally Brown James Arbogast Ellsworth Drew Sir David Mother .... Billy Price .Enez Witt Milkmaids — Gertrude Belle- Oudry, Idoline Rosekrans, Emma Eichelberg, Helen Boehrer. Queen ' s Attendants — Eleanore Barker, Olive Mackenzie, Alice Davis, Frances Irwine, Irene Levoy, Betty Johnston. The Terrible Twelve — John Caulkins, Arba Overholtzer, Robert Fisher, Byron Jones, Stuart Kimbal, Teddy Cooper, Ernest Saftig, Alex. Sabo, Colin Findley, Gerald Phelps, Ralph Unruh, Robley Matheson. “Cave Man Stuff” Evening High Drama Class Helene, a maid... Sylvia Berger Mrs. Murry ...Jetta Forslund Cupid.. Ray Demarest Mr. Murry A. S. Pebble High Ninth English Program The High Nine English Classes, under Mrs. Hall, presented on the evening of June 3rd scenes from “As You Like It”. The audience was transported to the Forest of Arden, where, in Shakespeare’s immortal lines, Rosalind and Orlando played light-heartedly at love, spiced with Jacques’ kindly cynicism and Touchstone’s quaint humor. The production was aided by the art, physical education, and music departments. The cast was as follows: Rosalind... Barbara Kierulff, Florence Fraser Celia Madge Talbot Touchstone Lucile Janson Phebe Betty Cox Audrey Edith Adams Jaques Hudson Nagle Orlando Lawrence Irwin Banished Duke ....Robert Runyan Duke Frederick.... Herbert Blasdale Oliver Quinton Harris Amiens Vernon Wiles Jaquies de Boys.. Bernice Menard Adam Ferril Nickle Prologue Marion Gorrill Corin Edna Bowman Silvius Marion Geddes William Nelson Bockus Hymen Margaret Rader First Lord... MacDonald Moses F or esters — Billy Bland, Julian CJnruh, Ralph Cioss, Yaid Hupp, John Morris, Whll Beatty, Ralph Brower, Zonk Mardirasian. Attendants — Joseph Debely, Mark Overholtzer. Dancers — Margaret Staples, Dorothy Flood, Rowena Way, Enez Witt, Marion Yancey, Idella Landers. On the same evening Miss Christy s High Nine English Classes presented scenes from Shakespeare’s “The Tempest. The cast included the following students: Boats wain - Ted Dungan Master Paul 1 Ial1 Mariners .Harold Stuart, Foster Powell, Weston Gorman Antonio. - .Eugene Bailey, Elwood Grady Gonzalo Dick Sims, Albin Rolin, John Richardson Alonso.... Horace Henderson, Harvey Derne, George Tilbury Sebastian Fred Brown, Roger Colton, Ward Woods Miranda Margaret Lamb, Lois Stewart, Cathryn Mitchell r j e | Katherine Par- ker, Genevieve Lelean, Dons Hoxie, Shirley Denison Caliban - Robert Parker Prospero Robert Garrels, Patrick Leonaid, Tom IVlcCoid Ferdinand - Gardner Miller, Richard Stevenson, Harry Andrews j r j s Elma Emerson Ceres....-.-..--.-.----- - Beth . Swinn j uno Evelyn Kirkman Lords Charles Griffeth, Richard Gross Storm Nymphs — Dorothy Crowe, Millicent Hillbun, Rhoda Hearn, Ethel Roland, Sylvia Lindsey, Evelyn Poston. Banquet Nymphs — Katherine Parker, Dorothy Howard, Helen Cooke, Elizabeth Shaw, Katherine O’Connor, Sylvia Lindsey, Marian Stone. . . Harvest Dancers — Charlotte Compton, Barbara Seaver, Vngima Pearce, Doris Hoxie, Katherine Rochester, Evelyn Poston, Doris Sanders. Ariel Nymphs — Katherine Parker, Annabel Strickland, Evelyn Kirkman, Charlotte Compton, Marian Stone, Helen Cooke, Dorothy Crowe, Rhoda Hearn, Ethel Roland, Millicent Hillbun, Bernice Woods. Mrs. Most designed the costumes for “The Tempest , Helen Mills arranged the Banquet, Harvest and Ariel dances. Genevieve Lelean supervised the Storm dance. Helen Cook and Evelyn Kirkman seived as accompanists for the dances. The Spring Festival S ANOTHER year draws to a close and we look back upon the days we have spent together at Willard, pleasant memories of W 1 the Spring estival, which has become a tradition of our school, still linger with us. Although the affair was educational in motive, in spirit King Car- nival reigned supreme. He held sway first in France, then in old Spain, next over ancient Rome, and finally transported us into that imaginary land in which we all love to wander with Robert Louis Stevenson. The program was longer and more pretentious than that of last year, and reflected great credit on our school, in regard both to the excel- lent work of the language departments, and to the fine spirit of co-opera- tion of faculty, mothers and students throughout the school. The Spanish department contributed a play entitled “No Fuma- dores”, a Spanish dance and a lullaby, “Dodo”; a play, “Los Tres Mendigos Cregros” ; a chorus, “Teresita Mia”; a vocal solo, “Hasta La Manana”; a Spanish folk dance, and the Mexican national hymn. The Latin department offered two numbers, the first, “The Satur- nalia”, having a strictly Roman atmosphere, while the second, “Robert Louis Stevenson in Latin,” was a modern application of the classics. The French department presented the play, “Madam Est Sor- tie;” a French historical project, depicting “The Costumes Through- out the Ages,” and showing how fashions were modified by the different periods of history, and finally a representation of French provinces by folk costumes, the pro- gram ending with a French folk dance, fol- lowed by the singing of “La Marseillaise”. Through the generous aid of the Mothers’ Club luncheon was served on the grounds, after which a parade, dazzling in color and splendor, and in which practically the whole school participated, marched up and down the terraces. After being reviewed bya committee of judges composed of Mrs. Hatch, Miss Mar- ion Smith and Mr. James, the procession halted at the flagpole, where all joined in the singing of “The Star Spangled Banner,” led by the Willard band. Three prizes, consisting of boxes of candy, were awarded to the best sustained characters. Evelyn Kirkman, who imper- sonated an Indian squaw, won the first; Mar- garet Moloney, who took the part of a French peasant, the second; Roger Colton and Nelson Bockus, who were “just kids,” Nelson transforming himself into “Nellie,” shared honors in the third pnzt. The afternoon s program closed with Mr. Clark, representing Uncle Sam, leading the school in the Salute to the Flag. The day’s festivities ended with a dance in the gymnasium, where gaily attired revelers frisked and frolicked until late in the after- noon. — SPRING Oh for the days of springtime, When the fields and trees are green And the blossoms so white and snowy. From the hills far off are seen. We deck our heads with garlands Of daisies, pink and white. And around the lilac May-pole We dance with great delight. DOROTHY ANDREWS I WONDER I wonder why the snow is white; I wonder why it’s dark at night; I wonder why the sun sheds light. Why aren’t the cows of purple hue? Why aren’t the poppies sometimes blue? I wonder an awful lot, don’t you? I wonder. I wonder an awful lot I know. I like to wonder sometimes, though. I wonder why I wonder so. I wonder. JOSEPHINE FESSENDEN. Udwokr-ci TKuhtn SP ORTS INTER-CLASS TRACK Opportunity was given each pupil of Willard to win his Class Numerals in inter-class track this term. Thursday afternoon was set aside for six successive weeks by Mrs. Hoskins for inter-class competition in one track event. Much good material that was later used for the big inter-school track meet turned out. Class Numerals were won by Ernest Saftig, Alex Sabo, John McCallum, Robt. Ingalls, Mildred Bright, Frank Kockritz, Catharine Allen, Katharine Schneyroff, Madeline Eistrat, Harold Stevens, Minnie Garfinkel, Ann Cook, George Donnell, Dorothy Smith, Bernice Peter- son, Ruth Davidson, Jack Davis. PLAYGROUND BASEBALL After a hard-fought season of playground baseball among the dif- ferent Physical Education Classes of Willard the Period V girls won the inter-class championship, thereby winning their Class Numerals. The following girls composed this winning team: Jean Walton, Bernice Peterson, Eleanor Kehler, Dorothy Snell, Harriet Wheeler, Carol Barber, Bessie Francis, Marjorie Albee, Dorothy Smith. Subs. — Vena Willey, Barbara Mclvor, Elizabeth Koughan, Wilma Borgfeldt, Period V boys also won the championship in inter-class playground ball. The team was as follows: George Donnell, Richard Felt, Carl Lindale, Haig Mardirasian, Alfred Fry, Tom Cahill, Gerald Compton, Harrison Libbey, Edward H asson, Cliston Mitchell. Subs. — Billy Baldwin, Lester Knowlton, Wendell Witter, Pierce Hussey, Marion Haynes, Leland Glass, George Prosser, Clarion Woods, Francis Smart, Humphrey Chick, Henry Donovan. TRACK VICTORS TRACK MEET, MAY 2, 1924 (Official Report) Total points made: Garfield 300 Edison 149% Willard .... 200 Burbank 1 06% Total points made by boys and girls separately: Girls Boys Garfield ... 137J 2 Garfield 1621 2 Burbank .. 84 Willard 121 Edison 81 Edison 68% Willard .... ..... 79 Burbank 22 Posture Contest Burbank . 90% Edison 82% Willard . 88% Garfield 80% TRACK The fourth annual Junior High Schools Athletic Meet took place on the University of California Oval, Friday, May 2, 1924, at 2:30 p. m. Willard came in second in points, also in the Posture Parade. This shows vast improvement over last year’s meet and gives great con- fidence in a complete victory next year. Willard broke five records, three in basketball for distance and two in the high jump. The contestants who showed their athletic ability was beyond the best of other years were Bernice Peterson, Minnie Garfinkel, Fletcher Abadie, Walker Stalworth and Francis Smart. Boys and girls both did unusually well in the weight relays. The Willard rooting section stood forth in the Gold and Green caps that Mr. Cramer designed and his classes made. Willard is grateful to him and his workers. Tom McCord as yell leader, did his share to encourage and cheer the track athletes. Willard stood behind him to the man and Willard spirit was never at a higher pitch. The following students were point winners for Willard: Class Name Event Place 85-lb. Girls.... ..Bernice Woods Weight Relay First Alice Lewis. Weight Relay First Mary McIntosh Weight Relay First Helen Boehrer Weight Relay First Mary Hatch Weight Relay First 85-lb. Bolis.... . ..Alfred Fry.. Weight Relay First Edward Scott Weight Relay First Billy De Graves... Weight Relay First Harvey Brown Weight Relay First Frank Kockritz Weight Relay ..First Donald Rubel Dash Third Francis Smart... High Jump First ( new rec.) Foster Powell Basketball Throw Third Allen Bischoff Jump and Reach First Joe Reading Jump and Reach ....Second 85-lb. Girls Emma Lucey .. Dash Fourth Priscilla Christie Standing Jump.. Fourth Jean Kelsey ... Basketball Throw ......Third Bessie Francis Jump and Reach First Ruth Jacobs.. .. Jump and Reach ....Second 95-lb. Bovs. .. ....Chris Mangels. Weight Relay First Frank Solinsky Weight Relay First Price Hoppin. Weight Relay First Ralph Prunell. Weight Relay First Warren Wright .... Weight Relay... First 95-lb. Girls.... .. .Virginia Clark Weight Relay . ....Second Ina Hayes Weight Relay ....Second Ruth Rosedale Weight Relay ....Second Louis Mangels Weight Relay.. ....Second Ethel Quakenbush. Weight Relay ....Second Class Name Event Place 95-lb. Boys ...Arba Overholtzer ...Dash ...Fourth Donald Good ...Running Broad Jump.. ....Third Horace Glasson... ...Basketball Throw ..Second Geo. Hammon ...Jump and Reach. First Clifford Mitchell .. ...High Jump ...Fourth 95-lb. Girls..... ...Katharine Caudel.. ...Dash ...Fourth Carolyn Jones ...Basketball Throw ...Fourth Elizabeth Marsha’l. ...lump and Reach ...Fourth Edith Adams. ...Weight Relay ..Second 105-lb. Girls... ...Dorothea Asman.. ...Weight Relay... ..Second Betty Cox.... ...Weight Relay ..Second Svlvia Rosenquist.. ...Weight Relay ..Second Enid Keyes ...Weight Relay ..Second 1 05-lb. Bovs... ...Harold Stuart. ... ...Weight Relay ..Second. Ernest Saftig ...Weight Relay ..Second Wm. Voorhies.... ... ...Weight Relay ..Second Oliver Brown ...Weight Relay ..Second Frank Kawakimi ...Weight Relay ..Second Edward Magness ...Dash ... Third alker Stalworth. High Jump First (new rec.) Julian Unruh High Tump ..Second Herbert Barton ...Running Broad Tump . First David Kelley ...Running Broad Jump.. ....Third Leonard Swords.... .. ...Basketball Throw. ..Second Gardner Miller ... Tump and Reach ..Second 105-lb. Girls... ...Evelyn Kirkman ...Dash ...Fourth Martha Davis ...Baseball Throw ..Second Minnie Garfinkel ...Basketball Throw New Rec. Kokigu Takahashi ...Jump and Reach ...Fourth 115-lb. Bovs... ...Robert Garrels ...Weight Relay... ..Second Tom Cahill. ...Weight Relay... ..Second Jack Young ..Weight Relay. ..Second John Stewart Weight Relay ..Second Jas. Beazell height Relay ..Second 115-lb. Girls... ...Susan Guild ...Weight Relay ..Second Eleanor Barker ...Weight Relay ..S-econd Florence Fraser Weight Relay ..Second Leslie Tooker ...Weight Relay ..Second Mary Sperry ..Weight Relay ..Second Event Class 115-lb. Boys 115-lb. Girls Unlim. Boys Unlim. Girls Unlim. Boys Name Place ...Jack Wyke ...Dash ... Third Wilferd Smith.. ....High Jump ..Second Richard Stevenson... ...Basketball Throw ...Third Clark Julian... ...Jump and Reach. ...Fourth ....Millicent Cleverdon. ...Dash ... Third Bernice Peterson ...Basketball Throw New Rec. ....Allen Copp ...Weight Relay First Spencer Kemp ... Weight Relay First Kenneth Gravatt ....Weight Relay First Richard Morris.... ...Weight Relay First Harold Stevens .... ...Weight Relay First ...Ann Cook . ...Weight Relay First Elizabeth Koughan ...Weight Relay First Inez Lane ...Weight Relay First Mary Frances Lutz.. ....Weight Relay First Ruth Rosenkranz.. .. ...Weight Relay First Peggy Jones ... Dash . Third Dorothv Mitchell.. . ...Basketball Throw ...Fourth Ethel Rowland ....Standing Broad Jump.. ....Third Marion Gorrill ....Jump and Reach ..Second ....Seth Lee Clark ....Medley Relav. ...Third Winfield Scott ....Medley Relay... ...Third Harrison Manley ....Medlev Relay ...Third Donald Barnes ...Medley Relay... ...Third Jas. Martin .. Medley Relay... ...Third Gerald Compton ...Dash ... Third George Donnell ...High Jump ..Second Bob Runyan .Running Broad Jump.. ..Second Fletcher Abadie.... ...Basketball Distance.. ..New Rec. Harvey Derne ...Jump and Reach ..S econd BASKETBALL TEAMS BASKETBALL Willard put forth all of its customary effort and enthusiasm into the Basketball season. The inter-school games with Burbank, Edison and Garfield resulted in the following teams winning their Block W’s: Unlimited Girls — Ann Cook, Rhoda Hearn, Ermyl Wilcox, Madge Talbot, Dorothy Smith, Marian Gorrill, Ethel Rowland, Dor- othy Crowe, Beth Swinn, Beatrice Lathrop, Evelyn Poston. 105-pound Boys — Tom McCord, David Cameron, Dick Sims, Wendel Witter, Henry Donovan, Richard Stevenson, James Beazell, Edward Hassan, Ted Dungan, Tom Cahill, Donald Barnes, Chet Smith. Unlimited Boys — Bob Runyan, Spencer Kemp, Fletcher Abadie, John Morris, Jack Wilkie, Pat Leonard, Joe Debeley, Rindge Shima, Billy Bland, George Donovan. HARD BASEBALL The usual difficulties attended the Willard inter-school baseball season as we are the only Junior High School in Berkeley without a place large enough t o play baseball. Baseball practice was carried on at West Field of the University campus at the early hour of 7 in the morning. Our boys showed their loyalty and good will by coming out regularly for practice in spite of the hardships. The team lineup was as follows: C. Murphy and E. Heitman (C), W. Smith, assisted by Stevens and Murphy (P), J. Morris (1), J. Unruh (2), H. Stevens (3), T. McCord (SS), E. McKenzie (LF) J. Davis (CF), J. Debely (RF). Subs. — C. Wood, H. Johnson, F. Sample, G. Donovan, O. Falk, W. Bland, J. Stewart. The Silver Image E WERE Icokin g over things left by my grandfather. He had died two weeks before and left very little money. Henry, my brother, and I were rather badly in need of money, too. A few days before a trunk had arrived from Japan addressed to J. J. Barton, my grandfather. As my brother and I were his only heirs, it was our right to open it. My grandfather had been a sea captain. This accounted for some of the mysterious things we found in the trunk. The first fascinating thing we discovered was a funny old log book dating back to 1 856. The log book had come from the ship Roamer, a three-masted schooner. This large ship was described as carrying a brown canvas in the first sail. Nothing more of interest was discovered until we reached the end of the book. There between the last page and the cover was a piece of paper. It looked like a page from a note. On it were written these words: “John Barton, you have betrayed us! You will never live to profit by your evil deed. We know the secret of the silver image. A twist of the head and a pull on the ears and the secret is anybody’s. You shall die before you can get it! Mark our words! The Betrayed, R. J. W. N.” Henry and I were quite startled by this accusation of one of our blood. We continued to search the trunk and at last we found what we were looking for. On opening a black case we beheld a silver image of Buddha. With trembling fingers I seized it and twisted its head, at the same time pulling on the ears. It fell very neatly into two pieces. Out onto the floor rolled two of the finest diamonds I have ever seen. To Henry and me they represented a real fortune. We received about $50,000 for the two of them. This put us through college and gave us a good start in business. We later learned that our grandfather had in no way been to blame for that note he had received. ELEANOR ABAD1E. i0 0 3= M anon Gornll (to Madge Talbot) — “Is Barbara Kierulff a good friend of yours?” Madge Talbot — “Yes. What has she been saying about me?” Dick Sims (to Charlie Grif- fith) — “There is Betty Cox getting on the other end of the car. Why don’t you speak to her?” Charlie — “Sh! Not so loud. She hasn’t paid her fare yet.” Leland Glass — “I get a hair- cut every week.” Dick Sherwood — “How long will it take to get them all cut?” GENTLE JA Oliver Brown, walking down the street at night, was held up by a burglar. “Shoot ahead,” said Oliver. “I wear Paris garters and no meta l can touch me.” Jack Davis (in English, reciting “Barbara Frietchie”) — “Touch not a hair of yon bald head. Richard Morris — “I wish I had lived in prehistoric times.” Foster Powell — “Why?” Richard — “Because I wouldn’t have to study history.” Carol Flaherty (while watching girls practice dancing) — “Kath- erine Rochester is good, isn’t she?” Shirley Denison — “Yes. She’s taken anesthetic dancing.” Teacher (to John Stewart) — “I thought your mother taught you manners at her knee.” Patrick Feonard — “She taught them to him over her knee.” On the Farm A woodpecker lit on Kettenbach’s head, And settled down to drill; He bored away for half a day And finally broke his bill. Raggedy Ann My little doll has hair of yarn, Flippity-floppity goes her arm. With shoe-button eyes, she never cries, — Now isn’t that a grand surprise? M iss Aten (in H8 English) — “We have time for only one more sentence. Bruce will you take ten?” Mildred Stewart (acting as chairman in French) — “Class, be quiet. Now I’m going to jump all around.” Teacher (speaking to Winfield Scott, who was chewing gum in class) — “Empty that chewer.” Katherine Parker (translating French) — The forest was full of savage flowers.” James Martin (to Mrs. Johnson) — “Will you please move so I can get in the drawer with the baseballs?” Robert Emery — Just think, 1 tuned in St. Louis on my two-tube set last night.” Pierce Hussey — “Oh, that’s nothing. On my crystal set I got the ‘Chimes of Normandy.’ ” Robert Garrels — “No chewing gum on the stairway.” Katherine Parker — “There is too. I just stepped on a piece.” Teacher (to Jack Abbott) — “Have you ever been through algebra?” Jack Abbott — “Yes, but it was in the night and I didn’t see much of the place.” Ruth Lyser — “Did you know that they have taken ‘Spark Plug’ out of the funny paper?” Adele Monges — “No, have they?” Ruth — “Yes, they were afraid he would spread the hoof and mouth disease.” “Did you hear about the fleeced Lamb?” “No, what about it?” “Margaret got her hair cut.” Teacher (to Clinton Brown) — “Can you name a city in Alaska?” Clinton — “No’m.” Teacher — “Name the zones.’ Raymond Smith — “The masculine and feminine. The masculine are temperate and intemperate, and the feminine are torrid and frigid.” Heard at the Track Meet Beatrice Lathrop — “Garfield’s horseshoe isn’t very safe, it might spread the hoof and mouth disease.” Robert Neuhaus (to Miss Christy) — “Do we get our report cards before or after vacation?” Miss Christy — “After, in order that you may enjoy your vacation.” Teacher — “Allen, what have you on your mind?” Allen Copp — “Gum.” Stanley Johnson (to Francis Smart) — “What answer did you get?” Francis — “I got 1 — x.” Stanley — “That’s wrong. I worked it five times and got x+1 Lawrence Irwin (in H9 History) — “Why were the Middle Ages called the Dark Ages?” Hudson Nagle — “I don’t know; but I suppose, well, because there were so many knights.” Madge Talbot (on duty, getting excited) — “No walking on the stairs.” Edison once said: “Inspiration means perspiration.” Maybe that’s why our compositions haven’t been very wonderful lately. — (Billy and Bruce) Norman Chapenot — “Can you paint?” Evelyn Poston — “Why sure! What’s the matter? Haven’t I got enough on?” Inez Lane Inez, Inez, I’ve been thinking What it is that you would do. If all the boys should be transported Far away from little you. JUST IMAGINE: Bruce Merrill without his good looks, Hanna Wilbur forgetting her books; Joe Deering with straight, straight hair, Wilma Wyatt not taking care; Edna Bee not hunting a beau, Betty Shuey walking slow; Murray Richards short and fat, Gardner Armstrong knowing his “Lat” ; Billy De Graves reaching six feet. Little Ruth Dodge leaving her seat; Bill Barlow thm and very small, Milly Stewart stout and hugely tall ; Barney Allen without his freckles, Kathlyn Clark forgetting her nickels. Try These Before Breakfast Laugh up your sleeve. Prick up your ears. Tear down the street. Pull up the river. Pick up the floor. Scour the neighborhood. Teacher (to Gardener Miller, arriving late to music) — “Gardener, are you asleep?” Gardener (trembling with fear) — “Y-yes, sir.” Robert Snyder — “My ambition, when I get to college, is to go to a lot of teas.” Harvey Derne — “Well, I guess you will have to give them your- self.” Teacher — “You may sit here for the present, Lucile.” (At 3:10) “Well, why don’t you go home, Lucile?” Lucile Janson — “I’m waiting for the present.” Margaret Lamb (getting excited over the results of an Algebra test) — “I can’t imagine where I did the mistake wrong.’ Ted Dungan — “What a sick looking watch!” Robert Garrels — “Yes, its hours are numbered.’’ Hudson Nagle (getting excited while delivering a speech) — “All the lunch from the dance will go to the motion picture machine.” Bud Staats gave an immense balloon To Kittenbach one afternoon; But Dick Sims, with a pin quite short Caused it to burst with a loud report. The moral is — that dangerous toys Should not be given to little boys. When we throw a scrap of paper In the street or in the yard. We make the work for others Very tiresome and quite hard. Plays You Must See Rindge Shima in “Peter Pan”. Chester Murphy in “Little Lord Fauntleroy ”. Tom Cahil (reading the minutes) — “Alfred Fry gave a speech on the electric chair.” Tom McCord — “Do you like fish balls?” Charlie Griffith — “I don’t think I’ve ever attended one.” Teacher (to Oliver Brown) — “A biped is anything that goes on two feet. Can you give an example, Oliver?” Oliver — “Yes, ma’am; a pair of stockings.” Report Card Snaps Joe Debely got Florence Fraser’s report card by mistake, fainted and had to be carried home. Ronald Trenery is going to Stanford. His card is loyal to the crimson. Why are Robert Neuhaus’ eyes inflamed? Because he looked at his card without smoked glasses. Teacher (in Latin) — “Class, this has been a very poor recitation. Why, I have done most of it myself.” There is a girl named Barbara Seaver, The temptation to talk just will not leave her; She talks in French and talks in History, And what she says is to all a mystery. Margaret Hunter (reading “Columbus” in H8 English) — “Sail on, sail on, sail on and on.” To Miss Aten — “Shall I go on?” M iss Aten (with a frown) — “Oh, yes, of course, sail on and on. Lawrence Irwin (telling story of Medusa) — “The hair of Medusa was as beautiful as a snake’s hair.” Bug House Fables Evelyn Kirkman using a powder puff. Leland Glass with a haircut. Billy Baldwin not snaked up. Oliver Brown — “Will you miss our class when it goes?” Teacher — “Yes, I will miss it very much.” Oliver — “That’s why I m not going.” Evelyn Poston — “Is there any ink?” M iss Christy — “All we have is on the floor.” Dick Sims — “Does this car go by Willard School?” Conductor — “No, kid, it goes by electricity.” Taken from John Stewart’s examination paper: “1. To avoid germs, stand alone in a crowd. “2. To prevent teeth from decaying wrench them out every morning.” There was a boy named Orient Falk, And all he did was sit and talk; But when the report cards came around All he could do was fret and frown. Frank Solinsky (in English) — “The reading of the minutes will be adjourned.” Sister (to Susan Guild) — “Get up, Susan. Remember, it’s the early bird that gets the worm.” Susan (drowsily) — “Let him have him, sister. I’m not hungry.” Pressley Coggeshall — “The president can make proclamations for holidays, like the one he sends out on the last Thursday in November, celebrating Easter.” Dismissed at noon, you rush and tear To get ahead at the cafeteria there, And while in line you push and squeeze And get ahead without saying please. Now this is very rude indeed. And so you’d better soon take heed, Y ou Goop ! All Gaul is divided into three parts — Chester Murphy, Charles Griffeth and Stuart Montmorency. Teacher — “Take this sentence: ‘Lead the cow out of the lot.’ W hat mood’’ ? Tam Gibbs — “The cow.” Muriel Grattan (in Oral English) — “I sat all day in the moon- light.” Doctor — “How did you find yourself this morning?” Ward Woods — “I just opened my eyes and there I was.” Teacher — “Who was that who laughed out loud?” Charles Griffeth — “I did but I didn’t mean to.” Teacher — “Didn’t mean to?” Charles — “No, teacher, I laughed up my sleeve and I didn’t know there was a hole in my elbow.” Stewart Montmorency (giving title to current talk) — “I have the hoof and mouth disease, too. I got it from the Gazette.” Teacher (explaining magnetism) — “How many natural magnets do you know?” Julian Unruh — “Two, sir.” Teacher (surprised) — “Will you name them please?” Julian — “Blondes and brunettes.” A study hall with children filled; In comes another pupil, too; A raise of heads, some stares also. Who is at fault — are you?